


Next Time Around

by LamentableComedy



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: (it's Ygraine), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Aromantic Character, Aromantic Morgana, Emails, Epistolary, Getting Back Together, Long-Distance Friendship, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Modern Royalty, Mutual Pining, Navigating Familial Relationships, Past Character Death, Phone Calls, Post-breakup, Sibling Bonding, Slow Burn, Texting, Uther Pendragon's A+ Parenting (Merlin), also i took some liberty with how body guards work, and how grad school works, exes to friends to lovers, it serves the story don’t worry about it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-13 08:41:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 72,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28900560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LamentableComedy/pseuds/LamentableComedy
Summary: Merlin,I was hoping to catch you in person, but then the term ended and given that we’ll have different degree ceremonies being in different programs and all, this is the next best thing. I know things didn’t really end well, but I was hoping that maybe you’d want to stay in touch? It would be nice if we could manage to be friends.ArthurSeveral months after breaking up, Merlin and Arthur try to be friends while navigating family relationships, figuring out what they want from their lives, and trying to learn from the past.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Morgana & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), background Gwen/Lancelot
Comments: 30
Kudos: 74





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title from “Next Time Around” by Jenny Owens Young

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: Toward the end of this chapter there is a frank, but not graphic, discussion of maternal mortality and complications related to pregnancy. There’s more details in the end note if you want to know when it starts and what to control-F to skip past it

To: merlin.emrys@gmail.com  
From: apendragon@gmail.com  
Subject: hey  
 _Sent 27 April, 2019_

Merlin,

I was hoping to catch you in person, but then the term ended and given that we’ll have different degree ceremonies being in different programs and all, this is the next best thing. I know things didn’t really end well, but I was hoping that maybe you’d want to stay in touch? It would be nice if we could manage to be friends.

Arthur

To: apendragon@gmail.com  
From: merlin.emrys@gmail.com  
Subject: re: hey  
 _Sent 27 April, 2019_

friends would be nice. seemed like we worked better that way anyway…

any plans for the summer? are you just heading straight back to buckingham?

thanks for reaching out, i would’ve been too much of a coward.

m

* * *

To: merlin.emrys@gmail.com  
From: apendragon@gmail.com  
Subject: re: re: hey  
 _Sent 24 May, 2019_

Merlin,

Sorry it took me so long to get back to you, I’m in Tintagel and I only just got the internet hooked up.  
I’m staying at a house here with Leon. The nearest town’s about a twenty minute drive away and I’m not sure anyone’s been to the house in about two decades, so we most of the last month spent cleaning up and making sure everything still works. I’m hoping I can stay here until at least the fall, but that might not be up to me.

Leon’s here in a professional capacity of course, but also a slightly begrudging co-conspirator. We’ve managed to make it here without any of my other guards tagging along. A good thing, too, there are only three bedrooms here and cleaning out the two we’re using was hard enough.

What’s your summer look like? Do you have a job? Are you back in Ealdor?

Arthur

* * *

By some miracle, Merlin got to work early. Not that he was late usually, or at least not late enough to get fired or to affect how much he got done, but he’d spent the last month getting increasingly formidable looks from Geoffrey every time he slipped through the door a good ten to twenty minutes after everyone else. So, in the last week, Merlin had fought his way to a legitimately on-time arrival and had finally, with the help of about a million alarms and what could only be described as herculean effort, he was tapping his keycard to get into the library’s medieval collection section a full three minutes before he had to start work.

Merlin sat down at his desk in the tiny cramped office allotted to him, and hit the power button on the ancient computer. While he waited for it to boot up, he pulled out his phone and scrolled through twitter aimlessly, not really taking much of it in, just trying to stop himself checking his email.

There weren’t many things Merlin could say he was an expert in— the idiosyncrasies of medieval illuminators and knowing when Will was lying pretty much summed up the whole list— but something that he could safely say he was a first-rate champion at was Not Thinking about Arthur Pendragon. Merlin had spent most of the first 17 years of his life not really worrying about whether or not he thought about the Prince of Wales, aside from nodding supportively whenever Will went off about the royal family. His real practice Not Thinking about Arthur had started once they’d actually met, and Merlin spent most of his first term of university pointedly ignoring Arthur just to spite him. Then, when Arthur had sort of managed to work his way into their friend group through Lance and started being around a lot more (and also being a bit less of a prat), Not Thinking, along with Not Staring and Not Pining practically became Olympic sports. Admittedly, there had been those eight months when Merlin had let himself lapse a bit, but Merlin had spent the entirety of second term in third year dodging any thoughts about Arthur with enough determination that it more than made up for getting a little out of condition.

The point being that Not Thinking about Arthur should have been easy. It had been easy, genuinely, for at least half of March and definitely most of April, and it had even stopped hurting when he slipped up a bit, or had a near miss running into him between classes. And then Merlin had gotten that email. And suddenly it was hard again.

Giving in, Merlin pulled up his inbox, not really expecting much. Arthur hadn’t sent him anything since that first message at the end of term, and Merlin was starting to think that maybe Arthur hadn't been all that serious about staying in touch. Surprisingly, however, there was an unread message at the top of his screen. Merlin opened it quickly, but he barely had time to take in the first line when the door to the office opened and he jumped, shoving his phone into his pocket.

“Oh!” Freya, who had the other desk in the office, blinked, looking surprised. “Morning.”

“Morning, Freya.” Merlin smiled, pulling his chair a little closer to his desk so she could get by in the cramped space. “Everything alright?”

Freya shook her head and draped her coat over the back of her chair. “I’d only just gotten used to seeing you here on time, it’s a bit of a shock to see you here early.”

“Yeah, well, I’m full of surprises.” Merlin grinned. “How’re you today?”

“Oh not too bad,” Freya sighed as she settled into her desk and started up her computer. “I had a bit of trouble with Bastet on my way out the door. She killed a mouse sometime last night and left it in my shoes for me to find.”

Merlin grimaced. “Eugh.”

He’d met Freya’s cat the couple of times he’d been over to her apartment to study, she was sweet in a way that always seemed a bit destructive. The last time he’d been over, she’d shredded half a page of his notes by curling up on them and kneading when he’d started petting her.

“Could be worse, I guess. Last week she tried to attack a pigeon. It didn’t go well.” Freya sighed. “Anyway, what about you?”

“Uhhh,” Merlin stared at the wall, Arthur’s email flashing before his eyes. “Getting in early, apparently.” He smiled.

“Well, that’s something.” Freya paused to enter her login info on the computer, then turned in her chair again to look at Merlin. “Are you doing anything over the weekend?”

“Not really. Well, a couple of people are coming round mine and Will’s for a game night tonight. And I think Gwaine wants to go to the pub tomorrow, but I’ve got some stuff to finish up on a last minute Master's program application so I’m probably going to try and get out of that.”

Freya smiled sympathetically, “Could be worse, at least you’re not stuck digitizing the old card records with Geoffrey. He’s been threatening to have Daegal come in Saturdays if he doesn’t get on with it faster.”

“Yeah.” Merlin grinned. “I don’t know how I managed to get out of that, he kept hinting about getting me to do it.”

“I think it has something to do with Daegal forgetting the no food and drink rule.”

“He didn’t—”

“No,” said Freya quickly. “The mostly just got on his jumper, and a bit on the floor. But we were checking some of the twelfth century stuff against what’s in the records and I had a manuscript out…” Freya trailed off. “It was a near miss,” she concluded.

“Shit.” Merlin winced. “And I thought I was on Geoffrey’s bad side.”

“Well, to be fair, I’m not sure he has a _good_ side.”

The chance to work with the university’s medieval manuscript collection had seemed like a lot more fun when Merlin applied, but in practice it was a lot less getting to handle and study medieval texts and a lot more staring at his computer while he updated and refined the collection’s records. The only interruptions were when he needed to check where something was in the stacks, or when Mordred— the other student employee— popped his head into Merlin and Freya’s office with a question. Geoffrey mostly left the four of them to their own devices as long as they made good progress, and he took a dim view of conversation or questions.

The day passed unremarkably. Merlin was able to hold off looking at his email until nearly eleven, but when Freya got up to go to the bathroom, he finally gave in and read Arthur’s message. He spent the rest of the day convincing himself that spreadsheets really were absolutely fascinating in an attempt to Not Think about Arthur. By the time he left the library it had nearly worked, and thankfully once he got home Will greeted him by putting him on snack duty for game night, and the ensuing muddle of preparations was enough to push the email thoroughly to the back of his mind.

* * *

To: apendragon@gmail.com  
From: merlin.emrys@gmail.com  
Subject: manual labor? you?  
 _Sent 27 May, 2019_

i’m not in ealdor. will’s talked a bit about going back for a visit and if he does i might go along, but otherwise i probably won’t be back there until christmas. mum came down for my birthday, so i got to see her then. she said to send you her love, by the way. i told her at the time i probably wouldn’t get the chance, but she said if i ever did to pass it along anyway, so…  
i’ve been working in the library since march, medieval collection. it was just part time while classes were still on but it’s up to full now that they’ve wrapped up. other than that i’m not up to much.  
remember lance from first year? he moved back to town a few weeks ago. he and gwaine came by friday for a games night. gwen was supposed to come but she had work last minute.  
i thought you had some sort of tour or something this summer, did it get rescheduled? and why tintagel??? don’t tell me you actually bought some old cabin to run away to, you’ll kill yourself the second you have to change a lightbulb…

m

To: apendragon@gmail.com  
From: merlin.emrys@gmail.com  
Subject: re: manual labor? you?  
 _Sent 27 May, 2019_

shit i probably shouldn’t have made that joke, i’m really sorry. i spend last night finishing up a masters application and i had to get up early for work so i’m writing this on like 5 hours of sleep and three cups of coffee. please just ignore that, i’m sorry.

* * *

“Arthur?”

“Hm?” It took Arthur a moment to pull his eyes away from his laptop to look at Leon standing in the doorway to his room.

“Ah, the Lady Morgana is downstairs.” Leon gave a small, sheepish cough. “I don’t think she plans to wait.”

Arthur sighed. “Well, it took her longer than expected. Thank you Leon, tell her I’ll be down…” Arthur trailed off, waving his hand vaguely.

“Soon,” he finished. “Just give me a few minutes.”

Leon nodded and left the room. Arthur returned to his computer, considering Merlin’s messages. It had been a long time since they’d talked to each other over email. They’d only ever used it to work on a project when they shared a class in first year, one of the things that made it seem like the safest route by which to extend his tentative olive branch. Arthur had forgotten Merlin’s complete disregard for capitalization, and just how, well, _Merlin_ everything he wrote sounded. He’d forgotten the joke, too.

Arthur’s first instinct had been to smile when he saw it. It was an old one, from before they’d even started dating, during that time they were still dancing around each other. He couldn’t even remember the details of how it started, he’d been complaining about some press event or function, maybe, and mentioned wanting to run away. Merlin had found it funny, and brought it up every time Arthur struggled with something like cooking or laundry. Eventually Will had picked up on it, and started saying that it would be a service to the country if Arthur did just disappear into the woods, which made Merlin like it even more, which made Arthur start using it as shorthand for any frustration or annoyance… Of course once they’d started dating there’d been a built in assumption that Merlin would be running away into the woods with him, and remembering that a second later had wiped the smile of Arthur’s face. He read Merlin’s apology for what felt like the thousandth time in the past few days, searching for the right response.

“Arthur.”

He jumped, hastily shutting his laptop and swivelling in his seat. “Morgana.”

She stood in the doorway, casting a long shadow onto the carpet in front of her, silhouetted by the late afternoon light that poured in from a row of windows lining the hallway behind her. What he could make out of her face was impassive. Arthur matched it, forcing himself to assume a casual posture.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Morgana stared at him, lifting one eyebrow ever so slightly in a way that, for a fleeting moment, reminded Arthur of their father. He stared back at her with what he hoped was a pleasantly expectant look.

“I can’t help but notice you’re not in Berlin,” she said, stepping into the room properly.

“No, how observant of you.”

“Nor were you Rome this past weekend or Madrid the week before, or in any of the other cities you were supposed to be visiting once you graduated.” Her tone was light, almost aggressively so, and she walked around the room as she spoke, casually taking it in.

Arthur slowly turned in his chair as she did, following her movement. “I think you’ll find if you contact the relevant embassies you'll find they were all informed in advance of the change of plans.”

“Yes,” a note of annoyance started to creep into her tone, “and yet _somehow_ the person Uther put charge of your public appearances had no idea.”

“Really?” Arthur pulled an exaggerated thoughtful expression, even though she still wasn’t looking at him. “I could’ve sworn I had Leon arrange a memo be sent to your office.”

Morgana turned toward him with an exasperated look. “Arthur…”

“Morgana.”

She glared at him. “This isn’t cute, you know.”

“Fine.” Arthur raised his arms in surrender, then pushed himself out of the old wooden desk chair. He took a few steps so he was standing in front of her, arms crossed. “I cancelled the tour. There wasn’t a point to it—”

“So of course the next logical step was to vanish without telling anyone where you were going.”

“Well, if I thought I _could_ tell you without you immediately running to father…”

“For the last time I didn’t tell him about—”

“No, but I thought part of your job was to—”

Morgana laughed. “ _Now_ you’re worried about my ability to do my job? When you’ve been hiding in the country for the past _month_?”

“I’m not _hiding_.”

“No one knew where you were! I had to stop Uther calling in MI5! All your security detail would tell us was that they were in touch with Leon and you hadn’t been kidnapped— they’ve all been put on temporary leave so I hope you paid them off well. You’re lucky I thought to look here.”

“I’m sorry!” Arthur snapped. “I just wanted a few months where I didn’t have to worry about being Prince of Wales before I resumed it as my full time profession and all-consuming identity.”

Morgana rolled her eyes. “Oh, yes, being royalty is so trying.”

“It is, actually!” Arthur retorted. “It’s not like you’d know the kind of standards Father constantly expects me to meet!”  
Morgana’s face changed in an instant, the annoyed look changing into an icy blankness. “No, I wouldn’t,” she said cooly.

“Oh, come on, I didn’t mean—”

“It’s fine, Arthur, you never do.” Morgana sighed, turning away from him and walking towards the door. “I can’t buy you any longer than a month, so make the most of it.”

Arthur stayed where he was, listening as she descended the stairs and left the house. A minute later he heard the sound of a car starting and driving off down the road. He dropped heavily back into the chair and rubbed his hands over his face, sighing. He stared out the window at the back garden for what felt like a long time before turning back to the desk and reopening his laptop. Arthur took one look at the screen, still showing Merlin’s emails, before shutting it again and standing up. If he was going to have to sort through family drama and past relationships at the same time he was damn well going to be productive while he did it. He turned his back resolutely on his desk, and went to see if he could find a rake.

* * *

To: merlin.emrys@gmail.com  
From: apendragon@gmail.com  
Subject: more manual labour  
 _Sent 1 June, 2019_

Merlin,

It’s fine, there’s no need to apologize. Obviously going back to being friends is going to mean navigating what’s changed and how things are different, we’ll adjust.

The answer to why Tintagel is mostly because that’s where this house is. I didn't buy it, it belonged to my mother. And the tour didn’t get rescheduled so much as cancelled, so I’ll be spending at least the next month here. No one else has really been here since she died, except for I think my uncle Agravaine to pack things up. Maybe Tristan too, her other brother, before he died, I don’t know. It’s not too big, so most of what needs doing inside is taken care of except for the study, and I’ll be tackling that later this week, probably. In the mean time I’ve moved on to the garden. I don’t know anything about gardens so I’ve mostly just been clearing out the dead leaves for now. That seems safe enough.

I don’t really know what working in the library includes, but it sounds like your sort of thing, I hope you’re enjoying it. And that the rest of this week was less sleep deprived. When’d you decide to apply for postgraduate studies, and what for? More English lit?  
That’s nice to hear about Lance. We stayed in touch for a bit after he went back to France, but lost touch a while ago… I do remember that he mentioned wanted to come back to Britain at some point, it’s nice to hear that you were able to reconnect. How’s everyone doing? Say hi to them if you think they’d care to hear from me. And thank Hunith for thinking of me.

Arthur

* * *

Merlin shifted the pot plant he was carrying to his left arm as he wriggled his right hand into his pocket to double check the address in the text Lance sent him.

“Good I’m not late.”

Merlin twisted around and saw Gwaine on the sidewalk. Running up the porch’s short flight of steps, he joined Merlin in front of the door.

“Hey,” Merlin greeted him, putting his phone away and moving the plant back to both hands. “Uh, you might be, actually, it took me a while to find the right place.”

“Ah well,” Gwaine shrugged, leaning past Merlin to sign the bell. “Safety in numbers. Where’s Will?”

“Already in there, I think. He was coming from work.” Merlin shifted his grip on the plant. “What d’you bring?”

Gwaine lifted up a bottle of scotch with a ribbon around it. “Nothing wrong with the classics, right?”

The door opened then, revealing Lance. “Hey! Glad you could make it. C’mon, I’m upstairs.”

They passed through the small foyer and followed Lance to a door at the top of a narrow flight of stairs. Opening the door with a flourish, Lance ushered them into his lounge where Will and a man Merlin didn’t recognize were sitting.

“I invited Percy from work, I think I’ve mentioned him,” Lance said. “Percy, this is Merlin and Gwaine. We’re still waiting for Gwen, and I ordered pizza.”

Merlin put the plant down on an end table and looked around. Lance had moved into the flat in early May, but he’d insisted on not having a house warming party until he was fully unpacked. The room was welcoming, with a small couch and several mismatched chairs. There was a collection of pictures hung up one wall and Lance had set up bookcase that seemed to hold more knick-knacks than actual books. Gwaine immediately claimed the couch, throwing himself across it with complete ease and comfort, so Merlin took the empty chair closest to Will.

“It looks great,” Merlin told Lance.

“Oh it’s nothing,” Lance said. “I was just telling Percy and Will how long it took to get the couch in. It nearly got stuck halfway up the stairs.”

“Should’ve just left it there,” Will told him. “Could have been a good conversation piece.”

The doorbell rang and Lance jumped up. “That’ll be Gwen.”

Sure enough, a few moments later Lance was back, leading Gwen and carrying a dish of brownies.

“Careful with those, they’re still cooling,” Gwen told him, tucking her skirt under her as she sat down.

“Will do.” Lance gave her a broad smile and disappeared down the hall.

Gwen leaned forward holding out her hand to Percy. “Hi, I’m Gwen.”

“Percy,” he responded, taking her hand.

“How do you know Lance?”

“Er, we met when he started as a receptionist at the shelter.”

Gwaine twisted his head to look at Percy. “What d’you do?”

“I’m a groomer, mainly,” Percy answer. “But there’s a lot of overlap, we all do some of everything. What about all of you, how’d you meet him?”

“Oh, well, Merlin met him first,” Gwen said. “Then he introduced the rest of us.”

“Yeah, he saved Merlin’s life,” Gwaine added.

“Really?” Percy looked at Merlin with surprise.

Merlin sighed. “He’s exaggerating.”

“Lance stopped him walking into oncoming traffic,” Will supplied.

Lance came back in then. “Oh, are we talking about how Merlin and I met?” He nudged Gwaine’s feet so that he’d make room on the couch.

“Tell him it’s not as dramatic as they’re making it sound,” Merlin told him.

Lance shrugged. “He was looking at his phone and nearly stepped off the kerb that’s all. It was nothing, really.”

“I dunno,” Will said, grinning, “by the time I heard the story Merlin had been fully about to cross the street and DuLac had to tackle him out of the way.”

“Really?” Gwaine looked at him. “The way I heard it he stopped the car from hitting him with one hand, Edward Cullen style.”

Gwen and Will laughed, and Percy cracked a grin.

“ _Anyway_ ,” Merlin said, ignoring them, “we got to talking and it turned out we had a class together, yeah?”

Lance nodded. “Yeah, Intro to Philosophy, I think. And you invited me to the pub quiz.”

“How’d you do?” Percy asked.

“Probably terrible, we usually are,” Merlin answered.

“We aren’t _that_ bad,” Gwen protested. “Anyway, we were much better when Lance was playing.”

Gwaine laughed. “Yeah, we’d come in second last instead of losing outright.”

“And then he was around more or less for the rest of the term until he headed back to France,” Merlin finished.

Percy nodded. “You know I was surprised to learn that’s where he was from,” he told the others. “Without an accent, I mean.”

“I still refuse to believe it,” Will said. “I’m pretty sure he just says it to get girls.”

“I’ve told you, my mother’s family is English, both my parents speak Spanish, I grew up multi-lingual.”

“Will, you’ve heard him speak French.” Merlin added.

Will shrugged. “I don’t speak French, do I? He could be making it all up.”

“He’s shown us pictures of his home town!”

“Photoshop.”

Gwaine let out a bark of laughter at that and Gwen stifled a snort. Merlin just shook his head, grinning.

“So did the rest of you all meet in uni, then?” Percy asked, when things settled down.

“Nah,” Will answered, “I didn’t even bother with A levels. Merlin and I grew up together, he met all the others when he started at Camelot.”

“Will followed me here.”

“I was gonna move out of Ealdor anyway, seemed as good an idea as any to go where I had a couch to crash on.”

Merlin grinned. “That and you were lonely.”

“Fuck off, you’re the one who was calling me every week like a sap.” Will extended a leg and tried to poke Merlin in the face with his foot.

“Er, and then Gwen and I met ‘cause we were in the same program,” Merlin told Percy, shoving Will’s foot away without looking.

“Before I transferred out of English to do History,” Gwen added. “But we still stayed friends, though, obviously.”

“Of course.” Merlin smiled. “I mean, you were practically the first person I met here and we hit it off right away, I’m not giving that up just cause you switched programs.”

“Well, first aside from Ar—” she faltered, but caught herself quickly. “Aside from Will, I mean.”

“And you met Gwaine through Pride Soc, right?” Lance asked, oblivious to Gwen’s slip up.

Gwaine frowned. “Did we?”

“That’s how I heard it, at least,” Lance told him.

“I thought it was in the pub,” Will supplied. “But then again I might just be thinking that because it’s Gwaine.”

Gwaine turned to Merlin. “I could have sworn we met at that party that Mithian had. You know that one in the flat with the purple bathroom and the terrible heat.”

“Yeah, but I think that was a party she was throwing _for_ Pride Soc, remember?” Merlin said. “Didn’t she and her girlfriend make invitations and everything and pass them out at the meeting?”

“Ahhh, yeah, you’re right…” Gwaine nodded. “Still, I’d count the party specifically not Pride Soc in general. I mean, are you even friends if you haven’t woken up on their couch after starting the night in a totally different flat?”

“You know, that’s not an experience most people would consider universal.”

Gwaine shrugged. “Ah, well. I live an exciting life, what can I say.”

“Anyway… er, yeah.” Merlin looked at Percy again. “That’s how we got to know each other. Sorry,” he added, “I feel like we keep answering with more than you ask for.”

“That’s fine,” Percy smiled. “Lance warned me you were all pretty close.”

“Yeah, it was great reconnecting when I got back,” Lance said, nodding. “Felt just like just like old times. Well, except for—” Gwen shot him a look and he broke off. Coughing awkwardly, he said, “Er, does anyone want a drink? I’ve got some beers in the kitchen, and I made lemonade.”

“That sounds great, I’ll help you with it.” Gwen stood up hurriedly.

“You don’t have to, I can manage.”

“No, really, I want to!”

Their pizza arrived just after Lance and Gwen came back, and in the ensuing bustle getting everyone plates and napkins Merlin found himself alone in the lounge, surveying Lance’s wall of photos. Most of them were of Lance’s family, sometimes on holiday. There were a few that seemed like pictures of clubs or sports teams Lance had been a part of at various times, and a couple of him with people Merlin recognized or friends from home. A picture near the bottom caught Merlin’s eye and he took a step closer to look at it.

“Is that the prince?”

Merlin jumped, turning around to see Percy holding a handful of cutlery. He saw Merlin looking at it and glanced down. “Gwen thought people might want forks and knives.”

“For pizza?”

Percy shrugged. He set the cutlery down on Lance’s coffee table and moved pointed to the picture Merlin was looking at. “That’s Prince Arthur, isn’t it?”

“Er, is it?”

“Looks like him. He went to uni here, didn’t he?”

“Yeah,” Merlin said, his face feeling hot. He looked back at the picture in question.

Lance and Arthur were sitting on top of a picnic table, their feel on the seat, talking to each other. Gwaine and Leon, Arthur’s personal body guard, were faintly visible too, out of focus in the background. Merlin remembered when it was taken, they’d all driven to a park a little ways out of the city, late in the term, and ended up staying there until nearly dusk.

Still looking at the picture, Merlin told Percy, “Uh, he was actually sort of a friend of ours, for a while.” He tried to make his voice sound casual, but there was only so casual you could be about befriending the heir to the throne.

“Really?” Percy sounded impressed.

“Er, yeah.” Merlin fiddled awkwardly with the glass he was holding. “Me and him dated, actually,” he added, hoping that it sound like an afterthought. “It, er, ended a little while ago, so if the others ever act weird about mentioning him that’s why.”

“I see,” Percy said slowly, looking uncertain.

“Yeah.” Merlin nodded.

He really should have considered these kinds of conversations before he’d started dating Arthur. Explaining that you were on first name terms with a member in the royal family was bad enough without bringing in that you used to split desserts and wake up next to each other and go on terrible weekend camping trips that were cold and usually buggy and just generally _not_ romantic no matter what said royal family member might think.

Thankfully, Merlin was saved from figuring out what to say next as the others came in with the food. They sat down around the coffee table to eat pizza and Gwen’s brownies and talked about work and TV shows and it was easy to push Arthur to the back of his mind. Merlin felt a bit of a twinge towards the end of the night as his eye caught the picture on Lance’s wall again, remembering Arthur’s email and his uncertainty about whether the others would want to hear from him, but he pushed it away. He’d pass on Arthur’s hello later, he told himself. Percy and Gwaine were already talking about getting everyone together at a pub after work someday during the week. There’d be plenty of chances.

* * *

To: apendragon@gmail.com  
From: merlin.emrys@gmail.com  
Subject: evil librarians  
 _Sent 5 June, 2019_

last week was on the whole less sleep deprived, though this week’s been worse so far. today geoffrey’s taken us all off the cataloging we’d been doing and instead decided to instruct us on the temperature and humidity requirements for the texts. it’s important and normally i’d want to learn it about it, but he’s awfuuuullll at teaching. he’s been droning for the last two hours about which climates are best suited to those coloured edges you see on some books and why they’re useful. WE DON’T EVEN HAVE ANY BOOKS LIKE THAT IN THIS COLLECTION.  
anyway, he thinks i’m taking notes on my laptop but i’m answering emails. freya’s looking at facebook recipes next to me.

everyone’s doing alright. will’s still working at starbucks, gwaine’s doing landscaping. gwen’s working that coffee shop/bakery by the used book place, but in think she’s gonna looking into tutoring jobs again in the fall. her dad’s moving soon, and elyan’s supposed to start at camelot in september. lance has a job at an animal shelter, doing admin stuff, but he’s looking for stuff that’s more, you know, what he actually studied. not that any of us have had much luck with that yet, clearly. i guess i’m the closest, but it’s not like i plan on doing a master’s in library and information sciences anytime soon.

we had a housewarming party for lance at his flat this past weekend, that was nice. lance invited his friend percy, who i thought at first might be another person to balance out the chaos, but he and gwaine are getting on really well… lance and I went to the pub with them last night and they ended up playing darts but instead of just chucking darts at the board, one of them would stand in front of it and try to duck out of the way in time (on a _tuesday_ ). i’m not even sure it was gwaine’s idea either. no blood, but i thought for sure we were gonna get told off by the bar staff.

i’d been thinking about doing a master’s since last fall. i sent out most of my applications in january, this one is just because gaius knows someone in the department and she said they’ve still got spots. it’s a really good program so i figured i’d go for it. and i’m applying for medieval studies, actually, not english. i ended up minoring in it with all the courses in that area that i took that covered things in that area.

anyway… this was longer than i’d meant it to be, but i guess that’s what happens when i’m trying to distract myself from the finer points of moisture control. i hope you’re doing alright, and leon. it’s nice that you’re able to spend so time in a place your mum owned. i know that’s got to mean a lot to you. let me know how the garden’s going, and the study if you’ve started on it by now.  
thanks for being understanding about the joke, btw… you’re probably right that it’s gonna take some adjusting.

m

* * *

Arthur grunted as he struggled to pull a heavy box out from under the desk, inadvertently inhaling a mouthful of dust. He staggered back, coughing hoarsely, and blinked in the bright sunlight. The desk in question was old, ornate, and up until recently had been covered in a heavy sheet. It occupied about half of the back wall of the study, under a large window of leaded glass that overlooked the back garden and the woods beyond it. Unlike the bedrooms and the lounge that had mostly just needed a good dusting and to move around furniture that had been stacked together, or the bathroom and kitchen that had needed a bit more scrubbing and some work getting the water turned on but were otherwise fairly straightforward, the study appeared to have just been a dumping ground for boxes. Arthur had spent the morning emptying them out, and now the better part of the ground floor hallway was littered with flattened cardboard.

Folding the sheet clumsily, Arthur surveyed the results of his work. Unlike the other rooms of the cottage, it didn’t seem like any of the furniture needed to be rearranged or cleaned up, whoever had packed the place up had just tossed some sheets over the desk and chair and cleared out the shelves lining one wall. There was an armchair and a lamp in one of the corners opposite the bookshelves, with a small circular table beside it, and Arthur had found a rolled up rug amidst the boxes. The books still weren’t in any particular order, and the window could probably do with a cleaning, but on the whole, the finished result was very nice.

Sighing, he dropped heavily into the desk’s chair and took a moment to look through the window and out over the gently sloping patchy lawn behind the house. Arthur could see the flower beds that he’d been working on, and was satisfied with their decidedly less bedraggled appearance, even if they wouldn’t be winning any awards. He looked out the streaked glass of the window for another moment, then pushed his chair back, intending to have a look in some of the drawers. As he did, though, something under the desk caught his eye.  
It was a banker box, the lid a little lopsided and the colour of the cardboard faded with age. Frowning, Arthur pushed the chair back further and dragged it out, opening the lid with interest. It was packed with significantly more care than any of the others, where the books had just been dumped in without much care for subject or arrangement. What was more, it wasn’t filled with books, but rather a collection of letters and journals. Carefully, almost holding his breath, Arthur reached out and lifted the first of the journals. Laying it on the desk, he opened it gingerly and began to slowly turn the pages.

It wasn’t a journal, he realized once he’d been past a few pages, but a sketch book. Hand-drawn images of flowers or fruit, with the occasional more interesting drawing of outdoor scenes which Arthur recognized either from the palace grounds or this very house. He’d only made it past a couple of pages when he heard a small knock from behind him. Arthur turned and saw Leon leaning in the doorway.

“Yes?”

“Sorry to interrupt, but you asked me to make sure you didn’t miss lunch again and it’s nearly one.”

Arthur nodded. “Thank you, Leon, just a moment.” Closing the sketchbook gingerly Arthur got up and joined Leon in the hallway.

“Interesting reading?” Leon asked as they stepped over the boxes to get to the walked to the kitchen.

“Not exactly.”

Leon nodded but didn’t inquire further. “Well, you’ve certainly done a wonderful job with that room, it’s almost unrecognizable.”

“Yes, now we just have to get rid of the empty boxes.” Arthur said, kicking the last one aside.

“We could have a fire,” Leon suggested. He waited for Arthur to enter the kitchen, then followed him in.

“It’s a bit hot for that. Don’t you think?” Arthur opened the fridge and pulled out a tupperware of leftover pasta salad.

“Yeah, probably.”

Leon got down bowls and divided the pasta between them. They ate in silence for a few minutes until Leon cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Er, I should have mentioned earlier, but I got a call from Morgana while you were working. She’s coming by again this evening.”

“Of course she is.” Arthur rolled his eyes. “I don’t suppose she asked permission at all?”

“Not exactly, no. I did suggested she talk to you about it.”

Arthur waved his hand dismissively. “Don’t worry, Leon, I understand. What time did she say she’d be here?”

“Around five. I believe she intends to stay the night.”

“Of course,” Arthur said again. He leaned back in his seat, sighing in exasperation. Finally he said, “Well there’s no need to make her too welcome, just make sure the extra bedroom has blankets, will you? I’m going for a walk.”

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” Leon asked. “When you talked me into this you said you wouldn’t leave the house without my supervision.”

Arthur let out a short huff, “Right, of course. Well… I’ll clean up here I suppose and you can come get me when you’ve finished with the blankets.”

Leon nodded, the barest hint of a smile on his face, “Of course, sire.”

Arthur was pacing the upstairs hallway when Morgana finally arrived. He’d tried reading something, or starting a reply to Merlin, but he found himself unable to properly concentrate and so resorted to treading the length of the hallway in frustrated anticipation. The door opened downstairs and he stopped in his tracks, listening to the muffled sounds of Morgana announcing herself and Leon hurrying to greet her and direct her up the stairs to where Arthur stood. Slowly, he moved to the landing and watched Morgana climb the stairs, followed by Leon carrying a small valise.

“Arthur,” Morgana greeted him once she reached the top of the stairs.

“Hello Morgana, I trust the drive here wasn’t too onerous.”

“Oh you know,” Morgana gestured vaguely as if her thoughts on the matter were obvious. “Are we just going to stand in this hallway the whole evening or are you going to offer me somewhere to sit down?”

Arthur forced a grin onto his face. “Of course. I’ll show you your room and then we can go downstairs, shall we?”

He led her down the hall to the bedroom she’d be staying in, then back downstairs, intending to take her to the lounge.

“What’s in here?” Morgana asked, walking down the hall.

“Er, it’s a study,” Arthur told her, following as she continued towards it.

“Hm.” Morgana looked around as she stepped inside, seeming mildly surprised by what she saw. “It actually looks like someone would spend time in it.”

“Thanks,” Arthur said, rankled by the implied slight on the rest of the house. He moved to stand by the desk so he was blocking the box from her sight. “I’ve been doing some cleaning.”

“You mean Leon’s been doing some cleaning.”

“No, I have. Leon’s helped, maybe, but not much.”

“Well.” She raised her eyebrows, impressed. “Look at you. Were the flower beds you as well?”

Arthur shifted uncomfortably. “There’s only so much to do here, I had to find something to keep myself busy.”

“Indeed,” Morgana mused, tilting her head to one side. She turned and sat in the armchair.

Arthur sat too, nudging the box back under the desk with his foot. They sat in silence.

“How’ve you been?” Morgana asked at last.

“Fine.”

Morgana sighed. “I’m not just asking to be polite, you know, I really am interested in an answer.”

“How kind of you.” Arthur gave her an insincere smile. “Feel free to tell Father that I’m doing just fine.”

“For god’s sake, I’m not here to report to Uther!”

Arthur raised his eyebrows at her outburst. “Really? Because last I remember, you were doing just that.”

“Are we going to go through this _again_? I was doing my _job_ , Arthur, and in case you didn’t notice, I was doing a damn good job of it considering not a single tabloid even so much as speculated about you and—”

“What part of your job was telling Father about it?” Arthur cut her off.

“You were getting serious, I kept it quiet as best as I could, but what was I supposed to say once he found out, it wasn’t like I could just—”

“What?” Arthur snapped. “Just what? _Not_ been on Father’s side over mine?”

“I have never been on Uther’s side over yours.”

“No, you were just doing your _job_.”

“Yes, Arthur, I was doing my job. I was doing my job and I am so, _so_ sorry that you weren’t ready for Uther to know and I promise you I didn’t tell him, as much as you seem convinced otherwise.”

Arthur stared at her, stony-faced.

“I’m trying Arthur, I’m really trying,” she said, meeting his gaze.

Arthur looked away, studying the carpet. “We broke up,” he said at last.

“Oh,” Morgana said softly. “Because of…”

“No,” Arthur answered quickly. “No, we stayed together for another few months after that, actually. We just… we wouldn’t make it work.”

“I’m sorry,” she told him. “I know… I know I’m not the best at, well, anything in this area, but I am sorry, Arthur.”

Arthur nodded. He wasn’t sure what to say next.

“How are you, really?” Morgana repeated. “I mean, coming _here_ of all places…”

“I’m fine, I told you.” Arthur interrupted. “And I hardly think you’re one to worry about that particular aspect of this whole situation.”

A look of hurt flashed over Morgana’s face. “Of course,” she breathed out, through clenched teeth. “I forgot that I’m not one of the fortunate few allowed to talk about such things.”

“Morgana,” Arthur tried, but she didn’t let him finish.

“No, really, thank you. It’s not as though Uther doesn’t make very sure I’m constantly aware I’m a mistake, nothing more than evidence of his weakness, I need to be told that because I’m not related to her, my sympathy is totally worthless.”

“I’m sorry,” Arthur said. “I shouldn’t— Well, that was too far. I should know better.”

“Yes. You should.” Morgana replied coldly.

“How _have_ things been at court?” Arthur asked quietly.

Morgana let out a humourless laugh. “Well, Uther’s been furious. Not just at you,” she added, a hint of bitterness creeping into her voice, “I’m not convinced he’s even all that angry at you at all. No, instead he seems to think I should have stopped you somehow.” She paused, looking out the window with a grimace.

Arthur said nothing. For a moment the two of them sat in silence, neither looking at each other while he tried to work out what to say next.

“It’s been nice,” Arthur said at last, his gaze still focussed on the bottom of the nearest shelf. His voice was quiet and he had to clear his throat before continuing. “I… I’ve been going through the boxes of everything that got shoved here trying to…” A knot started forming in his throat and Arthur coughed. “I don’t know, learn something, I guess.”

Morgana smiled softly. “And?”

“She had good taste in books.” Arthur grinned. “And owned mugs with Beatrix Potter characters on them. Other than that,” his eyes drifted to the corner of the banker box, jutting out from under the desk, “I don’t know. But I feel like I’m getting to know her, in some way.”

“Well, best of luck.” Silence fell between them, more uncertain than any of the previous ones. After a moment, Morgana glanced at her watch and stood up. “I think I’m going have a bit of a rest before dinner.”

“Of course.” Arthur stood too. “The wifi information’s on the fridge, if you need it.”

“Thank you.” She turned to leave.

“Morgana,” Arthur blurted. His sister turned back toward him. “I’m sorry. About Uther blaming you, I mean.”

“It’s not your fault.” She gave him a rueful smile. “But thank you.”

* * *

To: merlin.emrys@gmail.com  
From: apendragon@gmail.com  
Subject: nice to know you do have the ability to capitalize things when you want  
 _Sent 9 June, 2019_

Merlin,

It turns out gardening is a surprisingly good way to fill the days. If I’m being honest the only actual gardening knowledge I have comes from having read _The Secret Garden_ as a child, and I don’t even remember it that well. There’s been a lot of googling to figure out what’s a weed and what’s something I actually want. One thing Frances Hodgson Burnett got right was that roses are surprisingly hardy. A few of the ones we’ve got are even blooming, and all I’ve really had to do for them is get them set up on trellises. They’re much more in danger from aphids than anything else. There’s a linden tree in the back garden, and I think that’s where they live. You can see ants going up and down the trunk a lot and according to the internet they farm the aphids? I wouldn’t recommend looking into it, the details are kind of disgusting. I’m looking into plants that attract ladybugs.

Leon’s been obliging enough to go into town to get things like a sprinkler for the hose and the trellises and some mulch and that sort of thing. Part of him agreeing to be the only guard I brought was that I stay inside unless he’s with me, but other than that and sleeping I’ve been outside for almost all of the past few days. I can say fairly I’ve never been this happy to be sunburnt.

Cleaning out the study went pretty well, I got to look through some of my mother’s old books and I found a box of some of her letters and sketchbooks. I’ve been looking through her sketches a bit, and she was very talented. I didn't even know she could draw. It’s looking like rain in the next few days, which’ll be good for the garden even if it means I won’t be able to work on it, so I’m probably going to get a chance to look through some of the letters then.

Leon’s doing well, we don’t talk as much as you’d think given how long he’s worked for me and how few other people we see, but he’s good company. Speaking of other people, Morgana was here Friday night and most of the day yesterday. It went surprisingly decently. It wasn’t nice, exactly, but not awful but any stretch of the imagination.

Thanks for the update on everyone, it’s nice to hear about how they're all doing. I know I can’t really talk, but if it’s any consolation the closest thing I have to a job isn’t even work and hasn’t got much to do with sociology and polisci (as much as you think it would relate to the latter). I’m not sure anyone really ends up doing what they’d like to.

Gwaine and Percy sound terrifying together. Any chance of Gwen balancing things out? I’d ask about Lance, but really he’s more likely to enable them.

Feel free to tell me to shut up about gardening next time,  
Arthur

* * *

In Merlin’s opinion anyone who got up before seven was a masochist and cats were the worst animals in the world. These two opinions were not entirely unconnected, as he’d been unceremoniously roused from slumber at around half past six by Freya’s cat insistently pawing at his face. Merlin tried to ignore her, but when it proved pointless he reluctantly dragged himself from bed, grumbling at Bastet as she jumped down from his nightstand. The sky outside Merlin’s window was only just beginning to grow light as he shuffled through his cramped kitchen trying to find the cans of cat food Freya had given him. He scraped a couple forkfuls of the food into a dish and set it down, glaring at Bastet as the cat hurried forward to start eating.

“Couldn’t you have gotten something yourself you horrible animal? There’s still some kibble in the bowl from yesterday, you know, you didn’t need to wake me up.” He watched as she continued to eat, unperturbed by his remarks. “Or bother Will! His bedroom’s right across the hall!”

Bastet looked up from the food, staring at him impassively for a second, then slowly turning back to the food and resuming eating.  
Merlin sighed. “I can’t believe I agreed to look after you.”

After putting the kettle on, Merlin sighed and left the kitchen, yawning. He sat down on the couch and leaned his head against the back and closing his eyes. He was deeply tempted to go back to bed, it was probably still warm and he had at least an hour before he had to start getting ready for work… but he knew that if he actually did fall asleep he knew he’d probably sleep through his alarms, then he’d be late and all the work he’d done to establish some kind of routine would be ruined. He hated being an adult.

The kettle came to a boil with a long, high whistle, and Merlin jumped at the sound. Swearing under his breath, he pushed himself off the couch and scrambled to turn off his stove. As his tea steeped, he bumbled about the kitchen making toast, and eventually sat down at the counter with his breakfast, looking through his phone while he ate. He went through checking twitter, instagram, Freya a text with a picture of Bastet, and finally opened his email. There was a new message from Arthur and Merlin’s thumb hovered over it, deliberating.

He liked talking to Arthur. He’d always liked talking to Arthur, even at the beginning when it was mostly sniping. They’d only been talking again for a short time, and just over email, but he already felt himself falling back into the easy rhythm of it. That was exactly the problem though. Merlin had already caught himself, more than once, defaulting to old patterns and had to rewrite things, especially since he’d already messed up in the final version of a message once. Sure Arthur had been understanding— too understanding in a way that made Merlin want to scream into a pillow for making all of it more complicated. He actually, genuinely wanted to be friends, it wasn’t just saying something to make him feel better about the breakup, which meant Merlin had to actually deal with what that meant. Taking a gulp of his tea, Merlin, stood up and shoved his stool away from the counter, closing his email decisively. He’d wait.

Work was the usual, though a little quieter without Freya to keep him company in their office. Merlin spent the entire morning and the first hour after his lunch break plugging away at the spreadsheets and indexing different catalogs against each other before he finally gave in and read Arthur’s email, though he didn’t answer it.

Finally, the day finished and Merlin headed out the door to meet up with Gwaine and Will. The late afternoon sun was bright and warm on the back of Merlin’s neck as he made the short walk to the new restaurant Gwaine had suggested they try. He and Will were already seated at an outdoor table when Merlin got there, a basket of nachos in the middle of the table.

As Merlin scanned the drinks menu, Gwaine picked a slice of jalapeño off the nachos and tossed it into his mouth and said, “So Will tells me you two’re cat sitting.”

“Er, yeah…” Merlin said. He set down the menu. “Why, did she do something while I was at work?”

“Not unless you count taking over the nice chair in the lounge,” Will said. “I just brought it up because there’s nothing else that’s been happening lately.”

“Hey, I told you about the guy at work with the weird aversion to burdock,” Gwaine protested. “That’s something.”

“Who’s the guy at work with the weird aversion to burdock?” Merlin asked.

“Some guy at work,” Gwaine shrugged. “Doesn’t like burdock.”

He flagged down a server who had stepped out onto the patio and ordered a beer. Merlin asked for a cider and a glass of water.

After the server left, Gwaine brought his foot up onto the seat of his chair and leaned against the patio railing behind him.

“Will has got a point though,” he said, pushing the hair back from his face.

“About what?” Merlin glanced at Gwaine as he liberated a particularly well-laden portion from the plate.

“About nothing happening. There’s Lance coming back, I guess, and obviously we’ve all graduated— except Will, of course— good on us for that, but otherwise it’s been a tragically boring summer so far.”

“Has it?” Merlin asked.

“I dunno about tragically, but that’s what I’d say.” Will looked at him, squinting in the bright sun. “Why, have you got a reason it’s not?”

“Uhh, no. No, not really.” Merlin said, tamping down the unbidden flash of Arthur’s emails and cramming them to the back of his mind.

“Er… What about that date you went on?” He asked Gwaine. “How’d it go?”

“Eh, she was nice but it didn’t really go anywhere,” Gwaine answered around a mouthful of nachos. He swallowed. “We’re gonna try to be mates though. I’m going to the Round Table with her and a couple of her friends this weekend— she’s also bi— I’ll see who I can meet there.”

“You’re going to try to pull while you’re with a girl you went out with?” Will asked.

“Yeah, but she’ll be trying, too. You should come,” he told Merlin. “I’ll be fun.”

Merlin shrugged. Gwaine had been trying to get him to come to the Round Table, the town’s gay club, since January, but so far Merlin hadn’t taken him up on it. “I’m alright.”

“Hm. Maybe next time then.”

The server came back out and set Merlin and Gwaine’s drinks on the table. As she left, Will seemed to be trying unsuccessfully to give Gwaine a look or catch his eye, but Gwaine was too busy getting more nachos to notice. Eventually Will let out a sigh and turned to Merlin.

“Look. Merlin. I get that breaking up with Arthur sucked, and everyone’s been very careful to walk on eggshells and not mention him and give you space… Trust me, we’re all here for you and all that nonsense. But it’s been _six months_ , you can go to a club.”

Merlin didn’t say anything. Gwaine’s eyes flicked between them as if he wasn’t sure how to react.

“Arthur was shite anyway,” Will told him, picking up his beer. He paused with the glass halfway to his mouth and added, “I mean, alright, he was a decent guy when he wasn’t being an ass, but you can’t put aside that it’s morally reprehensible that the monarchy even still exists. I mean, our tax dollars pay for his existence and we get _nothing_ out of it except a bunch of wankers who serve as a bullshit symbol of some kind of national identity. A meaningless concept, by the way, represented by a symbol that makes it easier to think of ourselves in proximity to prestige so that we ignore the unjust systems around us and don’t unite to work against them.” He took a gulp of beer. “Point is, you can do better.”

“Shit.” Gwaine looked impressed. “I’ll drink to that.”

Merlin smiled in spite of himself and lifted his own glass and taking a sip. “Thanks,” he said, setting it down again. “But I’m fine, really.”

“Really?” Will asked. “Because I’ve got more if you need it.”

“Me too.” Gwaine nodded.

“He was your friend for nearly two years!”

Gwaine shrugged. “Yeah, he’s a good bloke. But if you need me to hate him, I’m ready.”

“Hey, royals are shit,” Will said, holding up his hands in a gesture that said he was just being honest. “I’ve never made an exception for Arthur even when we liked him.”

“You can still like Arthur,” Merlin told them, looking down at the table as a knot of guilt twisted its way into his stomach. He wondered if Gwen and even Lance thought the same way, if they’d all talked about it. “Or not, I guess, but you don’t have to feel any particular way about him just because we broke up.”

“You’re sure?” Gwaine squinted at Merlin like he thought there was something he wasn’t saying.

“Yeah,” Merlin told him, meeting his gaze and thinking that this would be an excellent opportunity to bring up the emails. “Really, I don’t have any bad feelings towards him, we just didn’t work out as a couple.”

Merlin smiled, hoping Gwaine would accept the answer and move on. He seemed for a second like he might say more, but he just gave a kind of half nod and took a sip of his beer.

Will sighed. “Well, I still say he’s shit.”

“Right, got it.” Merlin laughed, doing his best to push down the guilty feeling in his stomach. “Do you want to split some chips?”

* * *

To: apendragon@gmail.com  
From: merlin.emrys@gmail.com  
Subject: personal communication is a valid space for the casual writing conventions of the internet  
 _Sent 11 June, 2019_

there’s no need to shut up about gardening if you don’t want to, though i’m going to be honest, i did look up the ants and aphids thing and i think you have too low a bar for what you consider disgusting. also, it turns out i only vaguely knew what aphids were and most of what i had in mind was wrong.

i haven’t been doing much, really. freya’s out of town for the week so i’ve been watching her cat. technically will is helping, but that only seems to cover tossing balled up paper for her to chase, not dealing with her litter box. she’s mostly sweet, but i think she knows that and uses it to get away with things. She’s spilt two glasses of water and made me lose at least five pencils by pushing them off tabletops.

i’m gonna be helping gwen get some of her dad’s stuff packed up for the move, lance is helping too. percy’s giant and he’s got a car so he’s gonna lift furniture and drive boxes over, and i think will and gwaine have both volunteered for the unpacking side.

er, what else… i had a call from mum the other day, she’s doing well. there’s a bake sale coming up to help raise money for the church roof and she’s helping get everything organized. she won’t be baking anything though, mum’s fine at cooking but she can barely manage pound cake. And before you say I’m being mean, she’s the first to make jokes about how awful her baked goods are. mr. simmons also recently announced he’ll be coming out of retirement for a few months in the fall to cover for one of the teachers who’s going on leave. he taught me and will when we were in primary school. he never seemed to like it much, but then again mum likes to say we’re the ones who drove him into an early retirement, so maybe he’ll have it better without us around. i dunno if you wanted a news update from a town you’ve never seen, but there it is.

speaking of mums, that’s really cool about the sketchbook. i don’t need to hear any of it because it’s probably personal, but i hope reading the letters has been nice. I know what it’s like to want to know more about someone you never met and i can only imagine how nice it’s got to be to find a way of doing that.

morgana’s visiting you?? is she still your pr manager? i thought for sure you get a new one after what happened in september…

m

* * *

The sun seared the back of Arthur’s neck as he dug his spade into the earth with deliberate, repetitive movements. He’d spent almost the entirety of the past three days outside, cleaning up the edges of flower beds, trimming hedges, and pulling up even the smallest weeds. It was paying off, and the back garden was starting to resemble something of the picturesque place it must have been in former decades. He’d even sent Leon into town for planters, potting soil, and very specific instructions for what to ask for at the small plant nursery attached to the hardware store. The resulting arrangement of low-maintenance, shade-loving plants on either side of the front door was immensely satisfying.

Wiping the sweat from his brow, Arthur moved down a bit and continued to work at making a clear border between where the lawn met the mulch of the flower beds. He tried to focus on nothing but the task at hand, staring at the earth as the spade moved up and down, paying attention to keeping the border straight, making it the same depth all the way around. He’d been trying for days to think of nothing but the work he was doing, but as much as gardening occupied his time and kept him moving, he couldn’t seem to make it occupy his mind.

The whirlwind of horticultural activity had started because, as he’d expected, Arthur had been driven inside by a few wet days in a row at the start of the week. It hadn’t been that bad to start with, he’d spent the first day looking through his mother’s sketches, reading over the letters (mostly from Tristan or Uther, with a few postcards from college friends). He’d also flipped through a few of her books, which she’d apparently used occasionally to press flowers or keep newspaper clippings. Arthur wasn’t sure when the pages these things were stuck between were important or memorable, and when they were just where she’d happened to open the book to, but he read them over nonetheless, trying to imagine what she might’ve wanted to remember.

The trouble had started when Arthur had gone to put her sketchbooks onto a bit of free shelf space at the bottom of the bookcase and realized he’d missed one. It was at the bottom of the banker box, and as Arthur flipped through it, he saw it was only half full. He’d stopped, staring at the first blank page, realizing with a jolt that it must have been the one she was in the middle of using before she died. He’d gone through the drawings in it again, slowly this time, sitting on the floor in the study with the book in his lap. The last one, a rough outline of one of the mantlepieces at the palace, was largely unremarkable, but Arthur had stared at it for a long time.

He’d been about to put the sketchbook on the shelf with the others when the letters had fallen out. They’d been tucked in at the back, several sheets of paper all filled with the same, spidery handwriting. They were all addressed to Ygraine, and all of them were from a woman named Nimueh.

Curious, Arthur had taken them back to the desk. They were all dated in the top right corner, covering several weeks starting about two months before Arthur had been born. He shuffled them back into chronological order, then started reading.

In the garden, Arthur grunted, hacking down at a dead root before tossing his spade aside and reaching for the garden shears. Phrases from the letters had been echoing in his head ever since he’d read them, nagging at him and disturbing the version of the past Arthur had always been told. Nimueh seemed to be close friends with Ygraine, and the letters were mostly personal updates, but from what Arthur could tell she was also doctor or maybe a midwife. At the very least, she was someone whom Ygraine had trusted enough to ask for input concerning her pregnancy. She seemed to have little respect for most of Ygraine’s other doctors, from what Arthur could gather, but on the whole she’d seemed perfectly satisfied with the state of Ygraine’s health, even if from a distance. Aside from the fact that Arthur had never head mention of Nimueh, most of the letters weren’t particularly strange.

_No, the strangest part came with the final letter in the stack. It wasn’t dated, though the one before it was from about a month before Arthur’s birth. It was written much more hurriedly than the others, and Arthur had spent several minutes deciphering it in places where it was smudged or too untidy to read clearly. As best as he’d been able to tell it read:_

_Damn. I warned them you were at risk before I left, they should have been keeping an eye on it. If I’d known sooner, it would have been easy to deal with, as it is… I’m going to get to the nearest place with a phone ASAP, I’ll call you once I do. I’m not sure how long that will be so I’m sending this in case it reaches you before I do. I should be back in London soon, in the meantime take some aspirin, ask them about inducing labour, and slap your idiot husband and the buffoons he calls doctors._

_I know this is stressful, but try to stay calm. I’ll talk to you soon and things should be manageable if we act quickly. Arthur will be fine, I promise, it’s just a matter of making sure you are too._

_Nimueh_

For all of Arthur’s life, Uther had attributed Ygraine’s death to a sudden complication that none of the doctors had seen coming, some unavoidable event during her labour. He’d never wanted to talk about it much and Arthur had never pried, never had a reason to ask for specifics or medical details. Never had a reason to doubt what his father told him. But reading Nimueh’s last letter… He couldn’t help but wonder if it was really as unavoidable as all that.

Finally liberating the root, Arthur fell back heavily, sitting with his legs tucked under him. He tossed the root into the wheelbarrow standing a little ways away and surveyed his work so far. Satisfied with the clear, sharp divide between the bright grass and dark mulch along the part of the bed he’d been working on, he turned his attention back to the remaining stretch. Arthur dug his spade into the stubborn ground, ignoring his aching muscles and the heat of the sun at his back as he tried to fit the letters into the narrative he’d heard from his father.

There were a few times Nimueh mentioned Uther by name, but more often she seemed to just allude to him, like with the “idiot husband” remark. But even without being named, his shadow still seemed to fall over everything Nimueh said, in her unwritten but still evident distaste for his preferred doctors and her openly critical opinions of Ygraine’s choice of husband. Arthur wondered what kind of friendship she’d had with his mother that Ygraine didn’t mind her talking about Uther in that way. Or maybe she had minded and Nimueh had done it anyway. Arthur didn’t have his mother’s half of the conversation.

Arthur reached the end of the flower bed and stood up stiffly, stretching out his limbs. He wanted to talk it through with someone, but he didn’t trust himself to approach Uther on the subject, especially when he was already less than pleased with Arthur’s recent actions. There was always Morgana. It had seemed like they’d more or less struck a tentative peace while she was there, but Arthur wasn’t sure how far that would extend, and anyway he doubted she’d know any more about Nimueh then he did. He’d tried looking her up, but without a last name it hadn’t gone anywhere, even when he added “Ygraine DuBois” or “royal family”.

There was always Merlin. Merlin who knew how to pick apart the tangled, question-filled mess that came out when Arthur talked about what was bothering him. Merlin who gave good advice and told him bluntly when he was getting hung up on nothing and when it was actually something worth worrying about. But Arthur didn’t know if he could have those conversations with Merlin anymore. And even if he could, he wasn’t sure there was enough concrete information in the letters for it to be worth talking about them. What would he even say?

_I found some letters from a friend of my mother’s I’ve never heard of and I think maybe I’ve possibly been wrong in my assumptions about her death, do you know any obstetricians who could clear things up?_

Not to mention that Arthur had never really figured out how to talk to Merlin about the various pitfalls of the Pendragon family. He’d told him about Ygraine, of course, but not about the huge, invisible presence she’d left behind her in the palace. Not about the vague circumstances of her brother Tristan’s death only a few months after hers and how Uther and Agravaine refused to speak to each other even as Agravaine accepted regular invitations to palace functions. Arthur had only told Merlin that Morgana was Uther’s daughter— not, as the rest of the public believed, his ward— a few months before they’d broken up, in an effort to explain why fighting with her involved a lot more moving pieces than whatever the fight was about. Merlin had been sympathetic (and later insufferable, claiming it was no wonder Arthur and Morgana were siblings when they were both “Like That”) but he still hadn’t fully understood the thorny mess of their family drama.

Arthur sighed. Nimueh’s last sentence rang around in his head. _Arthur will be fine, I promise…_ She’d been right, hadn’t she? Arthur had survived whatever last-minute calamity had occurred. He’d emerged into the world healthy and whole and stayed that way. His mother, however _… It’s just a matter of making sure you are too._ Had Nimueh been unable to help? Had the so-called “buffoons” overruled her?

_It’s just a matter of making sure you are too._

Heavily, Arthur tossed his spade and shears onto the top of the wheelbarrow and started pushing it around to the back of the house. Leon looked up from where he’d been sitting in a folding chair on the porch, reading a slim paperback. He watched as Arthur put away the tools he’d been using and left the wheelbarrow next to the small shed and turned to walk back towards the house.

“That’s all for today then?” He asked, standing up once Arthur reached the porch.

“Maybe,” Arthur answered, still hung up on the jumbled mess of thoughts turning over and over in his head. “At least until it cools off a little.” He pulled off the gloves he’d been wearing, tucking them into his back pocket. “Anything specific you want for lunch?”

* * *

To: merlin.emrys@gmail.com  
From: apendragon@gmail.com  
Subject: there’s being casual and then there’s deliberately flaunting established grammatical conventions for seemingly no reason  
 _Sent 15 June, 2019_

Merlin,

I can honestly say that gossip from a town I’ve never visited is pretty amazing right now. Please keep my informed on the church roof and the various innocent townsfolk you and Will have terrorized.

The garden’s coming along excellently. I’ve got the front porch set up with planters, and it turns out there’s this sticky stuff you can put on trees to stop ants climbing them to farm the aphids. I’ve also fully completed weeding, at least for now, and gotten the hedges around the sides looking mostly square. I’ll have to do it all again if I want any of it to stay that way, but it won’t be as bad now that I’ve gotten it this far and it’s nice to have a way of keeping busy. I’ll be sad to leave it when I go back to London.

It’s a long story, but looking through the letters was a lot more complicated than just being a nice look into my mother’s life. You're right, though. Even if it’s not simple, it’s really nice to feel like I can know something of her. I’d say more but… well, even if it’s different for you, you can probably imagine.

Morgana’s coming for another visit on Monday, and honestly I’ll be glad for the company. I need to get out of my head. She is still my PR manager, to answer your question. I think that’s probably for the best, actually. I’m not sure I entirely trust her as much as I did, but she genuinely is good at her job and I don’t know that I was entirely fair to her when we fought.

Anyway, I’m sorry about how lacklustre this email is. I don’t know that I can do much to fix it, but hopefully it’s at least comprehensible. Next time I should be a little less vague, at the very least.

Best wishes for dealing with the trials of part-time cat ownership, and with Tom’s move.

Arthur

* * *

“Merlin! Hi,” Gwen stood up, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. “Gosh, sorry about the mess…”

“It’s fine,” Merlin assured her, picking his way through the scattered boxes littering the floor.

“I didn’t even hear the bell, did Dad let you in?” Gwen asked, settling back onto the stool she’d been sitting on and lifting a stack of books.

“Yeah, he told me to tell you he’s nearly finished with upstairs and that he’s making lentil soup for lunch.”

“Great. You’re welcome to stay if you want.”

“Thanks.” Merlin smiled. He looked around the half-packed sitting room. “So… what needs doing?”

“Well,” Gwen said, looking around at the room and pushing her hair behind her ear again, “we’ve already gone through it all and gotten rid of things, so all that’s left is to get it all into boxes!” She sighed, giving Merlin a smile. “Then it’s just Elyan’s room, he’s supposed to be taking care of that tonight… And the last of the kitchen stuff. But we’re leaving that until Tuesday when we actually drive it all over.”

Merlin nodded. “Right. So, what should I be doing?”

“Why don’t you take the books,” she told him, standing up and maneuvering away from where she’d been sitting. “And I’ll start working on wrapping up the pictures.”

“Sounds good.” Merlin took a seat on Gwen’s vacated stool and started putting books into the half-filled box in front of it, doing his best to fit them as compactly as possible. “So, uh, how’ve you been?” He asked, reaching for a new stack from off the bookshelf.

“Oh, you know…” Gwen shrugged, wrapping newspaper around a large framed photograph from off the wall. “Busy, more than anything else. I’ve had some trouble getting enough time off work to do all this, and Elyan’s not been particularly helpful. It doesn’t help that he and Dad aren’t getting along at the moment… Lance was here yesterday, and Percy. That was great, we were able to get all the big stuff down the stairs and ready to go, though you probably saw that on your way in.”

“Yeah.” Merlin had indeed noticed the desks and two chests of drawers waiting in the front hall when Tom let him in.

Gwen’s phone buzzed, and she paused in taking down the next photo, pulling it out of her pocket and smiling as she looked at the screen.

“Er, why aren’t your dad and Elyan getting along?” Merlin asked her. “If you don’t mind saying.”

“Hm?” Gwen looked up from typing something into her phone. “Oh. It’s nothing, really. Elyan’s saying that he isn’t sure he wants to go to uni right away, Dad’s not happy about it. I’ve told him— Dad I mean— that it’s not a big deal if Elyan takes a year off, he’s got a job, and even if he didn’t he’s got about a million hobbies and he’s been talking about doing some travelling, he’d find something to do… But Dad seems to think this means he’s throwing away his chance at a decent future.” Her phone vibrated again, and she turned her attention to it, tapping out a reply.

“Who’s that?” Merlin asked as he closed up the box he’d been working on and started on the next.

“Lance,” Gwen said without looking away from her phone.

“Yeah? And what’s he saying that’s got you so happy?”

Gwen looked up, blushing. “Nothing,” she said, tucking her phone back into her pocket and turning away from him to take down the next picture. “He was just offering to come by tomorrow if we need more help.”

“Alright,” Merlin said, grinning.

“God, it’s nothing Merlin, really.”

“I didn’t say anything!” He raised his hands defensively. “Just that you looked happy.”

Gwen put the picture she’d been wrapping in to a box and took down another, turning to face Merlin as she wrapped it. “Anyway, enough about me. How’ve you been? I feel like it’s been ages since you told me about anything aside from work.”

“There’s not much else going on worth mentioning.” Merlin shrugged tucking a paperback between two stacks of larger tomes. “Freya got back to town yesterday, so I won’t be alone in my office anymore. And I don’t have to worry about being woken up at dawn by a cat pawing at my face.”

“Well that’s always good.” Gwen said with a smile. “Anything else?”

“Er…” Merlin hesitated. Watching as Gwen took down several pictures at once and seated herself on a sealed box to wrap them. “Actually,” he said, clearing his throat, “I’ve sort of been talking to Arthur?”

Gwen stopped what she was doing and looked at him, surprised. “Really?”

“Well, emailing really,” he looked down at the box he was packing, straightening a stay that didn’t really need it, “and we’re not together again or anything, it’s not like that. We’re… trying to be friends.” Merlin chanced a glance at Gwen, bracing himself for anything from pity to annoyance.

She was still looking at him, a photo and a half-crumpled sheet of newspaper forgotten in her hands.

“You think I’m an idiot.”

“No!” Gwen said quickly, bringing her hands up and realizing she was still holding the newspaper and picture. She set them aside. “Of _course_ I don’t think you’re an idiot. I think it’d be really lovely if the two of you could work out being friends, honestly.” She picked up the picture again, wrapping it slowly. “Have you told the others?”

“Ah… Not quite.” Merlin said, looking down at the books again. “I was sort of hoping you’d be the least likely to judge me.”

“No one’s going to judge you, Merlin, we love you,” Gwen told him earnestly. “Besides, you and Arthur are both adults, you can make your own choices.”

“Thanks.” Merlin smiled appreciatively. “It would still be great if you’d hold off on telling anyone else for now.”

“I won’t say anything.” Gwen smiled, finishing off her stack of pictures and getting up to take down the last few. “How long have you two been talking, anyway?”

“Er, we started emailing properly around the end of May,” Merlin said, avoiding Gwen’s eyes as he pulled an empty box closer to him to start filling. “But he may have first emailed back in April?”

“Oh Merlin…” Gwen was looking at him with her head on one side, eyebrows bunched in concern.

“You said you wouldn’t judge me!”

“I’m not.” She shook her head, still frowning. “But… April?”

“I didn’t think it would go anywhere! When people say they want to be friends, they’re not normally…” He waved his hand vaguely. “You know, serious about it. It’s just something people say.”

Gwen looked at him sympathetically. “It’s Arthur, of course he’s serious.”

“Yeah…” Merlin said, deflating. He poked at one of the boxes with his toe.

They worked in silence for a few minutes. Gwen finished with the photos and moved on to a cabinet in the corner, taking out the set of good china and carefully wrapping it as she had the pictures.

“He asked me out, you know,” she said unexpectedly. “In first year, when I had a class with him in first term.”

“What did you say?” Merlin asked, surprised.

“He was the Prince of Wales what do you think? I just sort of stammered out a thank you and said I didn’t see why he wanted to go out with me. He said that he thought that my contributions in class were insightful and he wanted to get to know me.”

“And?”

Gwen laughed. “We got coffee after class. It was… _incredibly_ awkward, we barely said anything the whole time. I think it maybe could have been actually nice if we’d know each other a bit better or if it hadn’t been first year, you remember how much less confidant I was then…”

“Gwen! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t know how! I was too surprised over being asked for coffee by royalty. Anyway, we didn’t talk again until he started spending time with us second term, and he never said anything so I assumed he’d just forgotten.”

Merlin smiled. “More likely he just didn’t want to think about it and was hoping you wouldn’t mention it if he didn’t.”

“In fairness, he was right about that.”

“Yeah… It’s too bad it didn’t go better, you two would probably have been less of a mess than we ever were.”

Gwen shrugged. “Maybe. But it went how it went so I suppose we’ll never know.”

“No, really, I can’t see you two getting into any of the problems we did, you’d do too good a job of talking to him about stuff.”

“ _Or_ we’d have run into different problems, or it would have been lovely for a while but we’d want different things.” Gwen set a plate down on top on the stack she’d been making in a box.

Merlin gave her a look. “Or you’d have made a really great queen.”

Gwen laughed, “Maybe. Too bad I lost my chance at it.” She looked at the plates, selecting a new one. “And it’s all academic anyway, things would have to be too different at this point to know.”

Merlin bobbed his head to the side, acknowledging her point. “I suppose.”

“Also I had enough trouble getting him to remember to help clear the table whenever he came over,” Gwen added with a smile. “I’m glad I avoided _that_.”

“Yeah,” he said, his smile widening. “God, he’s a disaster.”

Merlin let out a breath, feeling like a weight on his chest was lifting. It felt good to talk about Arthur again, to be able to say his name out loud without it catching in his throat or getting worried, solicitous looks from his friends. Merlin exhaled again in relief, the breath coming out with a slight laugh. Gwen looked over at him.

“What is it?” she asked, smiling slightly herself.

“Nothing.” Merlin shook his head. “It just— It feels good to talk about, that’s all.”

Gwen gave him a funny look. “Right. Well, I’m always here to talk to, and I’m _sure_ everyone else is too if you just gave them the chance.”

Merlin sighed. “I know. I will. I’m just… waiting for the right moment.”

* * *

To: apendragon@gmail.com  
From: merlin.emrys@gmail.com  
Subject: oh no… not flaunting grammar… how shall you ever survive…  
 _Sent 19 June, 2019_

so it turns out percy can lift an e n t i r e c o u c h on his own??? okay, so it was technically a love seat, and the cushions had all been taken off but STILL. i found this out yesterday when we were helping tom move into his new place. gwaine spent most of the time we were supposed to be moving boxes trying to get percy to let him ride on his shoulders after seeing that and i can’t honestly blame him. percy finally agreed after we’d more or less finished and i swear gwaine nearly fainted. gwen got percy to give her a turn after, so i think that’s a no on her as a moderating influence. the rest of helping with the move was pretty boring even without that to compare to. tom’s new place is just outside town and smaller than his old one since gwen’s moved out and elyan probably will soon too. it’s nice though, and it’s got a nice workshop for his welding.

gwen and i had a nice chat on sunday, actually, when i was helping her pack up. i had lunch with her and tom and then we ended up watching an entire series of taskmaster together back at her flat. it was nice to spend some time with her, it’d been a while.

i think she and lance might fancy each other, by the way. they spent the whole time yesterday being awkwardly polite to each other and there was a lot of very smily texting on sunday. i guess it’s not that surprising, i sort of wondered if lance had a thing for her in first year.  
i think that’s about all i have to say about what i’ve been up to… mum says the bake sale went well, so that’s good. other than that it’s just been work and relishing not having a cat around.

about the letters and everything… look, i’m not going to pry or ask about it if you don’t want me to, and it’s probably not even my place anymore… but it seems like a lot of it’s got you worrying so if you want to say more, you can.

hope the roses are doing well,  
m

* * *

Arthur stared out the window of the car as they drove through London, watching the buildings and pedestrians in the bright sunshine. As they rounded a corner, the first glimpse of the palace caught his eye. It was mostly obscured by other buildings, but Arthur still looked away quickly, sliding his gaze to the back of the seat in front of him. He fiddled with the ring on his left index finger and took a deep breath, steeling himself for what he knew would be waiting for him when they arrived.

The last days of his time at the cottage has been pleasant. Surprisingly pleasant, considering that Morgana had been there for most of it. They’d spent the first day or so making awkward small talk, but slowly they’d managed something resembling actual conversations. He’d even managed to coax her into helping him clear weeds and fallen leaves out of the flower beds the day before they’d left. On their last night there, Leon went bed shortly after dinner and Arthur and Morgana broke open a few of the dusty wine bottles that had lain hitherto undisturbed in the back of the pantry. Morgana took down two glasses from a cupboard and poured them each a generous serving.

“So,” Morgana said as she sat down again, setting her glass on the table and passing the other to Arthur, “are you going to tell me what you’ve been brooding about?”

He frowned at her. “I don’t brood.”

“Arthur.” Morgana levelled a piercing gaze at him. “The only reason I’m not calling it moping is because you’ve been doing that thing where you try really hard to keep yourself busy with other things so you can’t think about whatever’s bugging you. I know there’s _something_ on your mind.” She took a sip of wine, and added, “But fine, if we’re not there yet I can wait. How are you feeling about your triumphant return?”

“I have no idea.” He took a sip of his wine, sighing. “What should I be expecting?”

Morgana swirled the wine in her glass, watching it as she spoke. “Well, Uther’s his usual. Stubborn, over-proud, domineering.” She flicked her hair back with a toss of her head. “But he’s been mostly ignoring me lately, so I’m not sure I can offer any real insights.”

Arthur nodded silently. Taking a deep breath, he swallowed about half his wine and set the glass down deliberately. “I, uh, I’ve been thinking since you were last here,” Arthur said, keeping his eyes on his hand where held the stem of the wine glass. “And… I think I’ve been too hard on you when it comes to our father.”

“You don’t say.” Morgana’s voice was dry.

Arthur looked up to the ceiling, sighing. “For god’s sake Morgana, I know pride is a family trait, but can you just let me apologize?”

Morgana raised her hands off the table, just slightly. “Alright, go ahead. I promise I’ll shut up.”

“I… I should have realized earlier how…” he twirled his hand in a vague gesture, “well, _himself_ he is towards you. I know I apologized last time you were here, but it’s more than just him blaming you for this, it’s everything. I know that however much I… disappoint him, he’s far harsher towards you. I should have see that sooner.”

“It’s alright, Arthur, really,” Morgana assured him.

“No, it isn’t.”

Morgana laughed. “No, you’re right, it’s not. But he’s just as awful to you in other ways, don’t blame yourself for not seeing how he is towards me.”

“Maybe,” Arthur said doubtfully.

“There’s no maybe about it. You’re not responsible for his actions, only he is.” She took a deep breath. “And I owe you an apology too. For what happened in September.”

“You just said—”

“I know what I said. That’s… That’s why I should be apologizing.”

Arthur felt the bottom fall out of his stomach. “You said you didn’t tell him.”

“No. I didn’t. But I could have done more to stop him finding out.”

“Morgana…”

“Let me talk, Arthur, please, you don’t— You only know what Uther told you, right? And the two of us have fought about it but I just spent all the time making excuses or diverting it to other things, so… Please.”

Arthur spread his hands to indicate his compliance.

“One of the people in my office sent on your file to him in advance of a press event. He wanted to check something, I don’t remember what. The point is, they checked in with me before they sent it and I gave it the all clear without remembering it would have information about Merlin in there. So no, I didn’t tell him, but I might as well have.”

Her mouth twisted and she looked away from Arthur. “I told myself after that it was only a matter of time until he found out anyway, that you were getting serious and it was a question of _how_ not _when_... but those were just excuses.” Morgana shook her hair back, looking him in the eye again. “You trusted me and I didn’t fulfill that. I’m sorry, Arthur.”

Arthur was quiet for a long moment. “Thank you,” he said at last. Morgana frowned, opening her mouth and he held up one hand. “Not,” he continued, “for letting him find out. For the apology, and for explaining.”

Morgana gave him a weak smile. “You don’t have to thank me for that, Arthur, it’s basic decency.”

“As is thanking you,” he countered. “I’m not— I won’t say that you did nothing wrong, but... It’s alright.”

“No, it’s not—”

“ _Morgana_ , I’m not going to compete with you over who owes who what at this point. We’ve both apologized, alright? You forgive me, I forgive you, we’re even.”

“Alright. To being even then.” She raised her glass, smiling, and Arthur brought his to meet it.

After drinking, Arthur set his glass down on the table. He looked at the floor, preparing himself. The tiles were smooth and shone slightly in the light from the ceiling.

“Have you ever heard of someone named Nimueh?”

“Nimueh Lake?”

“I don’t know, she just signed her letters Nimueh.” Arthur looked up. Morgana was frowning, looking perplexed.

“Wait, what letters?”

“I found a box, it had with some of my mother’s letters in it, among other things. Several were from this woman, Nimueh.”

“Well, it’s probably Nimueh Lake, it’s not exactly a common name.” Morgana brushed her hair over her shoulder. “Is this what’s been bothering you?”

“Some of it.”

Arthur told her about the letters, explaining as best he could. When he was done he finished his wine in one go and reached for the bottle. He could feel Morgana’s pitying look and studiously avoided her gaze as he poured.

“Well, what do you know about her?”

“Not much, unfortunately. My mother mentioned her occasionally, I think they were in the same circles. From what I can remember it sounded like she’d lived abroad for some time.” Morgana paused. “Do you want to get in touch with her? Is that why you asked?”

Arthur groaned, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his eyes. “I don’t know. I feel like I’m making a lot out of nothing. Maybe Nimueh was lying to reassure her. Maybe she didn’t know as much as she thought she did…” Arthur trailed off.

Morgana rolled her eyes. “Don’t be stupid. You have a right to be interested in this, I would be.”

Arthur didn’t say anything to that, just stared at his wine glass in thought.

“Look,” Morgana said more softly, leaning across the table and putting a hand on his arm, “you don’t have to decide now, take time to think about it, talk to Uther about it even. But if you want, I can see if I can dig up a phone number or something for her so you at least have the option.”

“You think you could?” Arthur asked, frowning.

“I have my ways.” Morgana smiled. “And if they fail me I’m sure Morgause can manage it.”

Arthur laughed. “I don’t doubt it.” Morgana’s half sister from her mother’s first marriage was even scarier than Morgana and surprisingly well connected. “If you could do talk to her, I’d really appreciate it. I think I’m going to try to talk to Father too, but it would be good to have a back up plan.”

Morgana nodded. “Of course.”

From there, they’d steered the conversation into lighter territory, and the rest of the night had dissolved into reminiscing and eventually trying very hard to reconstruct the rules to a card game they’d invented as children, without much luck. Morgana had left in the morning, before Arthur had even woken up, and a few hours later the car had arrived to escort him back to London.

The car pulled up to the palace and Arthur took a deep breath, readying himself. He was still collecting himself when the car door was opened by someone outside.

“Arthur.” Uther’s voice was warm, and his face was fixed into his statesman smile. “Welcome home.”

“Father.”

“Come. Join me for a walk.”

Obediently, Arthur got out of the car, blinking in the brilliant sunlight. Uther set off ahead of him, heading towards the gardens, and Arthur scrambled to catch up. They walked in silence, following a neat path through carefully tended trees, surrounded by meticulously smooth lawns. The sight made Arthur miss his own garden. The few small beds he’d spent weeks struggling with paled in comparison to the work of the palace gardeners, but now, trailing along next to his father in an increasingly awkward silence, there was nothing that Arthur would rather see.

“So,” Uther said eventually, looking up at the palace rather than at Arthur, “I hope you realize that allowing you to remain absent as long as I did is a gesture of trust?”

“Yes, Father.”

“And I hope that you won’t make me regret putting that trust in you?”

“No, of course not.”

“Hm.”

There was another long silence, Arthur wasn’t sure if he was expected to say anything.

“Father,” he said, steeling himself, “I was hoping to talk to you about Morgana. She had nothing to do with what happened, I—”

“What happened,” Uther interrupted, “was a frivolous mistake on your part. It’s my own fault for letting you run wild at university. Regardless though, nothing of the sort is going to happen again.”

“Still, Morgana shouldn’t—”

“That’s not your decision to make.”

“Of course,” Arthur answered, gritting his teeth.

“I mean really, Arthur,” Uther continued, smiling a little. “everyone has a rebellious phase, yours was nothing special. I hope you’ve enjoyed the last of it, but it’s high time you took your position in this country seriously.”

“Yes. Of course.”

His father took a in a breath, seeming to savour the garden air. They walked in since again until Uther said, “I’m told you’re no longer seeing that boy.”

Arthur almost missed his footing on the path. “Er, no. No, we broke up in December.”

“Good.” Uther nodded. “Do make sure your next relationship is with someone more… presentable.”

“Merlin was perfectly presentable,” Arthur said, deliberately not taking his father’s meaning.

Uther laughed “Nonsense!” He stopped on the path and turned to face Arthur. “You’re going to be king one day Arthur, the people would rather see you with someone who offers hope for the future.”

“And who would that someone be, exactly?”

Uther stopped walking and turned to face him, putting a hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “Son, you’re young. I trust your knowledge of yourself and your preferences, and if you recall I made no move to stop you coming out publicly. But you can surely see that it would be better for the country if— when considering serious relationships— you thought of things a little more… traditionally. There are plenty of nice young women out there, son. Plenty.”

Arthur gritted his teeth. “Of course.” He took a deep breath. “About Morgana, though—”

Uther waved him off. “I’ve already discussed it with her, you don’t need to worried yourself over it.”

“Yes, but—”

“I’ll see you at dinner, alright? I’ve got other matters to attend to right now.”

Uther squeezed Arthur’s shoulder briefly, before turned to walk back to the palace, leaving Arthur standing in the middle of the sun-dappled path with a bitter taste in his mouth.

* * *

To: merlin.emrys@gmail.com  
From: apendragon@gmail.com  
Subject: I’m too tired to be clever today  
 _Sent 28 June, 2019_

Merlin,

I’m back at court, so sorry about how short this is and the longer than usual delay. My father’s decided I should take a more active role in his daily duties. He seems to think that I’ve been undervaluing my responsibilities, so the past several days have been… Busy. And tiring. I wish I could be glad that it’s Friday, but weekends are just as busy. I already miss my garden.

Morgana and I have formed a united front, more united than we’ve been in years, honestly, and it’s been helpful. Partially just to have someone to talk to, partially because she has some influence over my schedule and can help me avoid the worst of the supposedly important meetings I’m meant to be attending. In exchange I’m doing my best to lobby on her behalf to our father… I wasn’t _technically_ supposed to cancel the tour and go off to my mother’s cottage, and I landed Morgana in some hot water by doing so. I’m trying to rectify that now.

I’m glad you and Gwen were able to spend some time together, it sounds like she’s doing well. Please give my best next time you see her.

I know you said I could talk, and I appreciate that immensely, but try as I might I’m having a hard time putting most of it into writing. If I can figure it out, I’ll let you know. In the mean time I’m fairly exhausted, so I think that’s all for now… I’ll try to not take a week and a half to write next time.

Arthur

* * *

Will was claiming seer for the third game in a row and Merlin was well past buying it. The second time he hadn’t even been a werewolf, just a villager, but whenever they played hidden role games, no matter his role, Will’s plan was always to introduce as much confusion as possible. Merlin hated it. And Will knew that.

“No!” Merlin shouted, drowning out Will’s bullshit about seeing Gwaine’s card. “No, you’re not allowed to talk for the rest of the game, everything out of your mouth is a filthy lie.”

Will just beamed. “I don’t know what you mean, Gwaine’s troublemaker, I saw it.”

“Nope! Nope, no one listen to that, he’s lying. Nothing he says can be trusted.”

Gwaine cleared his throat, “I actually _was_ the troublemaker…”

“Then you’re both werewolves, you’re in it together!”

“Mighty big talk from someone who can’t back up his story,” Will said, leaning back and folding his arms.

“I was a villager!” Merlin spluttered. “There’s nothing I can do to back that up unless the real seer looked at my card! And stop talking. I told you you’re not allowed to talk.”

Will opened his mouth again, but Lance leaned forward, holding out his hands in a placating gesture. “Alright,” he said, “we’ve heard what Will has to say, and Merlin… Gwaine, whose cards did you switch?”

When the game ended, (it turned out Gwen was the werewolf and Will really had been the seer, which just made things worse) Lance gently suggested they pack up One Night Ultimate Werewolf and switch to something less fraught. They decided on gin rummy, based on Gwen’s reasoning that it would give them a better chance to talk, and Merlin went to put away Werewolf while Gwaine dealt. When he got back, conversation had turned to the subject of job hunting. Gwaine had gone to a couple interviews and he was fairly hopeful, while Gwen had been sending in resumés without much luck.

“I don’t know, there just doesn’t seem to be much out there…” Gwen sighed, rearranging the cards in her hand. “I’ve been thinking about just sticking it out at the bakery for a year and maybe applying for teacher’s college next fall.”

“You’d be a great teacher,” Lance told her earnestly.

“Really?”

“Of course, you’re kind and patient, and you explain things really well. The only reason I got through first year Classics because of your help. Anyone would be lucky to be taught by you.”

“Oh, um, thank you.” Gwen smiled, blushing slightly. “I don’t know, though,” she added quickly. “I’m still thinking it over.”

Gwaine took his turn and nodded at Merlin. “Any word from King’s College yet?”

“Not yet…” Merlin told him without looking up from his hand.

“Have you gotten into any of the other places you applied?” Lance asked.

“Er, two of them, yeah. I had some interviews in the spring. I’d honestly really like to go to King’s College, even if it means moving to London. But knowing I’ve got backups takes some of the pressure off.”

“You’re leaving town!” Lance looked hurt.

“Uh, yeah.” Merlin took his turn, nudging Will to let him know he was up. “Camelot doesn’t have a Master's program for Medieval Studies so that’s the plan. I’ll stay in touch though.”

“You better,” Will said, “I’m not going with you to London, the rent’s awful.”

“One, I don’t know if I’m going to London,” Merlin told him. “Two, Gaius only has one spare room so you couldn’t anyway.”

Gwaine smiled. “You could always get bunk beds.”

“No, I can’t sleep in the same room as Will, he snores.”

“How would you know?” Will countered. “You’re too busy mumbling about your dreams.”

“See,” Merlin told Gwaine, “can’t do bunk beds.”

“Personally I think London sounds great,” Gwen said. “It’s an excellent city with great opportunities and,” she smiled, giving Merlin a look, “lovely people.”

“Thanks,” Merlin smiled back. Play had come back around to him and he studied his cards carefully. “Arthur says hi, by the way.”

He could feel the rest of the table freeze. Keeping the casual smile on his face through sheer force of will, Merlin finished his turn and looked around at them innocently.

Lance spoke first. “I, er,” he coughed, “I thought the two of you split up?”

“They did,” Gwaine said slowly, staring at Merlin like he was adding something up in his head.

Will groaned loudly. “For fuck’s sake. If you two’ve gotten back together I’m going to slap you, swear to god.”

“We’ve just been emailing” Merlin said, “it’s not a big deal.”

“How long?” Gwaine asked.

Merlin shrugged. “Uh, you know… a couple weeks. Arthur got in touch saying he wanted to try and be friends so we’ve been exchanging messages and— Ow!” Merlin flinched as Will slapped him up the back of his head. “What the fuck, we’re not dating!”

“Yeah, and you also said that he ‘wanted to be friends’” Will made air quotes. “I know what that means.”

“It means we’re friends— Argh! Will! Stop it!” Merlin put up his hands to defend himself. “We’re not together, alright? Nothing’s happening between us, and nothing’s going to.” He paused, his hands still half-raised, ready to block another slap.

Will just rolled his eyes. “I love you, mate, but sometime you really are an idiot.”

There was silence for a beat, and then Lance asked, “So, how is Arthur these days?”

“Uh, good,” Merlin said reflexively. “Well—” He paused. He wasn’t sure how much Arthur would want him to say. “I think he’s pretty busy, I got an email yesterday saying he’s back in London— he was at, um, a summer home for a bit until recently… But, uh, yeah. Other that he seems alright.”

Merlin realized suddenly as he said it that he had no idea what the rest of the country thought Arthur had been doing. One of the deeply strange things about knowing Arthur was that he had gone from being vaguely aware of what tabloids and morning talk shows (and occasionally actual news outlets) had to say about the royal family, to actively avoiding taking in the information. Merlin was pretty sure it wasn’t unique to him, either. When he’d met Gwen she’d kept up with the royal family at least a little, in a casual kind of way, but she’d stopped years ago. Even Will’s stringent anti-monarchism and Gwaine’s malaise toward anyone he deemed even remotely posh had a slightly different feel to them after Arthur had become their friend.

“Why email, anyway?” Gwaine asked, breaking into Merlin’s thoughts.

Merlin shrugged. “That’s how he reached out? There hasn’t been much of reason to switch.”

He didn’t add that he still wasn’t sure he could talk to Arthur in a more immediate form and keep it compartmentalized from how they’d been before, not to mention that it was much easier to ignore emails or take his time answering them than it would be texts. Although, needing to take his time was becoming less of a problem, lately. The past few messages had been a lot easier to write without agonizing over the smallest word.

Will was still looking at Merlin like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “And how often, exactly, are you writing these… _friendly_ emails?”

“Will,” Gwen said, the same way she said Elyan’s name when she was annoyed with him.

“What? It’s just a question.”

Gwen looked and him and Merlin said quickly, “It’s fine, Gwen, don’t worry about it.”

He was a little worried that Will was going to say something else, and Merlin really wasn’t ready for this to be what they talked about for the whole evening, but luckily Gwaine seemed to realize this.

“Enough about Arty.” He finished his turn and leaned forward on his elbows, looking around at the other four. “Anyone got fun plans for tomorrow? Something coming up later this week?”

“Nope,” Will said with finality. “Well, there’s the free market tomorrow, but that’s every week. Nothing outside of the regular. You?”

“Percy and I are gonna go to the Rising Sun tomorrow, I think. Open invite if any of you wanna join.”

“I can’t tomorrow,” Gwen said, “I’m going to the opening of that new exhibit at the gallery downtown. Dad helped the artist with some welding on the sculptures, so he gave us tickets.”

“Oh, I’ve seen the fliers for that.” Lance looked interested. “I wanted to check it out. You’ll have to let me know what you think.”

“Well, you could come if you want,” Gwen suggested, her cheeks colouring. “I’ve got two tickets.”

Lance looked surprised. “I couldn’t, won’t your Dad want to go?”

“Oh no, he’s already seen most of it. I was going to see if Elyan was interested, but I’d much rather go with you. If you want to, that is.”

“I’d like that,” Lance answered quietly, offering her a soft smile. Gwen beamed back at him.

Will rolled his eyes and made a gagging motion. Merlin had been watching their exchange intently, and looked over at Gwaine, grinning. Gwaine grinned back before raising his hand, coughing into it loudly. Gwen and Lance both jumped, suddenly seeming to remember they were with other people. Gwen blushed furiously and Lance ducked his head, suddenly very interested in his cards.

Gwaine acted like nothing had happened. “Merlin? I think it’s still your turn.”

* * *

To: apendragon@gmail.com  
From: merlin.emrys@gmail.com  
Subject: true cleverness doesn’t need sleep  
 _Sent 30 June, 2019_

have i mentioned recently that your father is a giant butt? (are we at a point where i can say that?? is it crossing a line? wait. is it treason? …you know what i’m leaving it in it needs to be said.) you’ve never been anything less than serious about being prince, he’s got nothing to complain about.

i’m glad you’ve got morgana. i don’t know that i would be able to see things the way you do, but you’ve always been more forgiving than I have. and you probably could each use someone in your corner against aforementioned giant butt.

i got to spend a lot of this week in the stacks at work. most of the time i’m doing data entry, so whenever i get a chance for more hands-on stuff it’s always nice. geoffrey watches me the whole time i’m in there as if checking off a list of what sections things are in and making sure i’ve got the right authors and dates for everything is somehow gonna result in total disaster… but still. nice. oh, plus bastet’s back with freya so i get to sleep past seven again. freya made me and will some cinnamon rolls as a thank you so it was all worth it.

gwen IS doing well. in fact, as i write this she’s on a date with lance to a gallery opening. i fucking called it!! okay so maybe gwaine called it sliiiightly better than i did, i was sure lance would ask gwen out not the other way around, but i still got a percentage of the pool for my bet on how long it would take them being closest so it all works out.

lance asked after you yesterday, by the way. i told him you were alright, if busy. i’m sure he’d love to hear from you if you wanted to reach out. i’m sure gwen would, too, and gwaine. i know… i know i sort of got all our friends when we split up. i’m sorry about that.

no worries about the delay, especially now you're back at court, things can get busy, i get it. i do hope you’ll get some more free time soonish, though. and no pressure on sharing. you don’t need to say anything if you don’t want, i just thought i’d let you know you can. if you do figure out what to say, the offer stands :)

m

* * *

Arthur couldn’t even remember what the interview his father was giving was about, let alone why he had to be there for it. He sat on the small couch next to Uther, his face arranged in a suitable expression of mild interest and tried to follow what the interviewer was saying. Something about renovations, preserving an original style… Right. They were talking about one of the crown’s properties up North that needed some work done. Uther was very invested in keeping the renovations as authentic to when it was built as possible, though Arthur couldn’t remember when exactly that was. He nodded along slightly with his father’s answer and tried very hard to look like he cared about different types of crenelations.

He’d been back at court nearly two weeks now, and the whole time had been this. Arthur knew his father had been making more public appearance lately, pushing the importance of the crown a little more vocally than usual, but he hadn’t thought it was to this extent. Of course, it had been a while since Arthur had been at the palace for more than a few days. Last year he’d spent all of the summer working with Habitat for Humanity in Romania and he’d spent Christmas with Uther in Scotland, so this was the longest he’d been back at Buckingham in nearly two years. It was odd to think about.

The interview finally wrapped up, and Uther stood, shaking hands with the interviewer and thanking him. Arthur stood too, following his father’s lead, relieved to have a break for the rest of the afternoon. He was having dinner with Uther at six, but until then he could do whatever he liked, which was probably going to involve going to his rooms and lying face down on his bed. On his way towards the door to get a head start on doing just that, Morgana caught his arm.

“Arthur, can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Of course, what is it?”

Morgana looked over his shoulder to where Uther was standing, talking with his personal assistant. “Come on, let’s go upstairs.”

Morgana led him to the study adjoining her room and shut the door behind him. She took a seat at her desk, swivelling the chair around so it faced out into the room, and gestured for Arthur to sit. He dropped onto the chez longe positioned artfully by the wall and looked at her, waiting.

“I’ve heard back from Morgause. She knows a little about Nimueh, she even met her a few times when she was young. I met her too, apparently, not that I remember it. Nimueh and your mother were quite close, but other than that Morgause couldn’t tell me much. She’s going to see if she can get in touch with her, though. I’ll let you know if she finds out anything else.”

Arthur nodded. “Thank you. Tell Morgause I appreciate her help, too. Really. It means a lot.”

“I’ll pass that along.” Morgana turned in her chair slightly, moving a few papers around on her desk. “Have you spoken to Uther yet?”

“No.” Arthur sighed. “There hasn’t been a good time for it. I think… Actually, which do you think is better? Should I speak to him first and then Nimueh if I can’t get anything— assuming I can get in touch with her, or talk to Nimueh first and see how what Father has to say lines up.”

Morgana’s eyebrows lifted. “You think Uther won’t tell you the truth?”

“No. Not exactly, at least.” Arthur stretched out on the chez longe and immediately regretted it, it felt too much like being in a clichéd therapist’s office. He sat up again. “I used to think that he didn’t like talking about her because it was too painful, but what if there’s something I don’t know?”

“Well…” Morgana said, taking a deep breath and leaning back in her chair. “He won’t talk about Gorlois most of the time. He never says anything about my mother. I think it’s entirely possible that he just doesn't like talking about the past.”

“But you don’t think so.”

“No, I don’t. I think that Uther only tells people what _he_ thinks they should know about a situation and that’s rarely actually enough.” She sighed, looking as tired as Arthur felt. “But I still think you should talk to him. Just because he’s like that with me doesn’t mean he will be with you.”

Arthur looked at her. He wanted to say something, something comforting or reassuring that would let her know that he wasn’t their father. Or at least that he didn’t want to be. Instead he just pushed himself off the chez longe, exhaling heavily. “Thanks. Will I see you at dinner?”

Morgana sighed again. “Probably. Uther’s asked that I come. I assume this is the closest I’ll get to an apology so I might as well take it.”

“Arthur. You’re late.”

“Sorry, Father.”

Arthur closed the dining room door behind him and hurried to his place at the table. After leaving Morgana’s study, he’d gone to his room and ended up falling asleep, barely waking up in time to get downstairs on time. He’d slipped in the door precisely at six, according to his watch, which technically meant he was not late but rather on time, but Uther’s conception of ‘on time’ was a minimum of ten minutes before any agreed upon appointment. (And no more than fifteen, at which point you were intruding upon the other person.) Arthur placed his napkin on his lap and started helping himself to chicken, giving Morgana a small smile across the table as he did. She returned it tightly. It didn’t seem as though she’d enjoyed being alone with Uther.

“I trust the rest of your afternoon was pleasant, Father?” Arthur said at length, to break the silence.

“Oh yes, very productive.” Uther set down his fork and reached for his wine glass. He took a sip and added, “I’ve been talking with Lord Godwyn. He and Elena may be coming for a visit in August.”

“That’s nice,” Arthur said, actually meaning it. He liked Elena. They weren’t close, but he’d seen her semi-frequently throughout his childhood and they got along fairly well. “I hope they’re able to make it.”

“Indeed. If they do, I’m hoping you can show Elena some of the city, Arthur.”

Arthur frowned. “She’s been here before. I’m happy to spend some time with her, but it’s hardly as though she needs a guide.”

“Yes, well,” Uther waved his fork, gesturing, “you know. Just make sure she has a good visit. Maybe take her to some public events.”

Arthur’s frown deepened as he realized what was happening. “I’m sorry,” he looked at his father. “Are you setting me up with her?”

“No, of course not,” Uther told him, his attention on his plate where he was cutting his meat into smaller pieces. “I just think it would be a good idea to establish your public image a little more clearly. Show the kind of person you spend your time with, give the country an idea of your hobbies… That sort of thing.” Uther set down his knife, putting a forkful of meat into his mouth and swallowing before reaching for more wine.

Morgana’s face was fixed in a smooth, almost rigid expression. “And I suppose that’s why I’m here.”

“Precisely.” Uther nodded, not seeming to register the bite to her words. “Your team has done an admirable job keeping media attention off Arthur and minimizing his public presence, and that’s been wonderful while he was growing up and at school. Especially these past fewer years when he’s been more…” His eyes shot to Arthur, fixing him with a cold stare. “Adventurous. But he’s more than ready to step into the limelight. The people need to feel like they know the person who will one day be ruling their country.”

Morgana’s grip on her fork was tight, and her nostrils flared as she took a breath in through her nose. Letting it out, she gave Uther a pinched, close-lipped smile. “Of course. I’ll talk to my team about making a plan.”

Arthur looked at her across the table, chewing slowly. She didn’t look back, instead keeping her eyes on their father, who was now salting his potatoes. Arthur swallowed and cleared his throat, sitting up a little straighter. “And will I have any say in what the people know about me? Or what these hobbies are?”

“Of course you will,” Uther told him, still unperturbed by Morgana’s icy stare. “It will all have to be approved, of course, but I don’t foresee any problems. If there are, that’s what I’m hoping to iron out tonight.”

Morgana picked up her wine glass, muttering into it, “And here I thought it was just a family dinner.”

Uther looked up from his plate, setting down his knife and fork and giving her a look Arthur knew all too well from childhood. “Do you have something you’d like to say, Morgana?”

“No, of course not. That sounds like an excellent idea, naturally. I mean, why else would you possibly want to eat dinner with both of us?”

“I’m not sure what you’re implying.” Uther’s voice was low and steely, and Arthur jumped in quickly.

“I think,” he said, giving Morgana a look that he hoped was warning without being patronizing, “that what Morgana means is that we were both under the impression that this was a more… casual meal. Not a professional discussion.”

“I see.” The answer seemed to mollify their father and Arthur breathed an inward sigh of relief. “I’m sorry you were misinformed.”

“Yes,” Morgana agreed, her voice too sweet. “But of course, it’s my fault for assuming. Why on earth would I ever be invited if it weren’t business.”

Any traces of warmth on Uther’s face vanished. He brought his napkin up to his mouth, wiping the corners slowly before placing it on the table and leaning back in his chair. “Morgana. I have made it clear to you that I do not expect you to work—”

“No, you just don’t speak to me when I have no official place in your household. I don’t have any income aside from what I earn working, so unless I want to spend what my parents left me quickly and without a way of getting more I’d better have some way of employing myself.”  
Uther cut her off, not looking at her and continuing his sentence as if he has not been interrupted. “I have also made it clear that, as my ward, you will be given a place to live as long as you need one. The fact that you choose to seek employment regardless of this—”

Morgana laughed. “Yes, you treat me excellently as your ward, but you conveniently try to forget that I’m your daughter. The fact that I choose to work because I would otherwise be at your mercy for everything should not mean that you treat me as any lesser, and the fact that I choose to be employed _here_ rather than somewhere else should be taken as nothing but an indication that I am still holding onto some shred of foolish hope that you might act like a person for once in your life so we could have an actual relationship.”

Uther stood up sharply, pushing his chair back from the table with a sharp screech. “You will not speak to me in such a disrespectful manner.” He paused, looking at her, maybe waiting for an apology. When she didn’t say anything, he sat back down, turning his eyes to his plate. “Get out.”

“With pleasure.” Morgana stood, pausing next to her chair before she left. With a cool professionalism she told him, “My team will be touch concerning the matters we discussed.”

With that, she turned and left the room, letting the door slam shut behind her. Uther watched it for a long moment before turning back to his plate and resuming his meal. Arthur sat still for a long time, watching him. Eventually, he shifted in his seat, stiffly, feeling like his muscles had turned to wood.

“Father, perhaps if you—”

His father didn’t let him finish. “Arthur, I am not in the mood to have this discussion right now.”

Arthur felt his jaw clench and he took a deep breath, trying to keep his voice calm. “She’s not trying to offend you. I’m sure if you made an effort, tried to meet her halfway, she’d—”

“I told you I am not in the mood to discuss this, and that is final.” Uther didn’t take his eyes from his food and kept his voice calm, but that didn’t make his words any less firm.

“Of course, Father.” Arthur took another deep breath, counting to five as he let it out. “Could I be excused?”

Uther nodded. “Go ahead. I’ll see you at the meeting with Olaf tomorrow afternoon.”

Arthur nodded, not bothering to force his face into a smile. “Thank you. I’ll see you then.”

He found Morgana in her room, sitting by her window and staring at the grounds outside. She had a good view, but today it didn’t seem like she was really seeing it. Arthur pushed the door open gently, knocking slightly on the doorframe. Morgana turned at the sound, her gaze still distant

“Can I come in?” He asked.

Morgana nodded and turned back to the window.

Arthur came inside, pushing the door shut as he did and reaching for the light switch. Morgana had all the lights off, and he slowly moved the dimmer up about halfway, unsure if she wanted to stay in darkness. He stood by the door for a moment, just watching her, then sat down on the small stool in front of her vanity, leaning forward so his forearms rested on his knees.

“You know,” Arthur said, aiming for a light tone and missing horribly, “I don’t even think that was the worst fight I’ve seen you have. Really, it barely cracks the top ten.”

Morgana let out a barely perceptible snort and turned away from the window, actually looking at him this time. “It’s certainly miles below Christmas 2012.”

“Oh, obviously. No broken furniture, no audience… Compared to that it’s not even in the running.”

Morgana laughed, shaking her head. When she was done she looked at him, still smiling. “Thank you.”

Arthur spread his hands, bowing his head a little. “Anytime. I’ve an excellent memory for messy family history.”

Morgana laughed again, softly, and looked down at her lap, twisting the bracelet she’d gotten from Morgause as a teenager.

Arthur watched her, feeling like he was seeing her at fourteen, not twenty-four. “Does that happen often?”

“Dinner table shouting matches?” Morgana smiled wryly, but it faded quickly. She shrugged. “Not really. We’ve said most of it at this point, there’s no need to do it all again.”

“I’m sorry.” Arthur paused, not knowing what else to say. “Is there anything I can do?”

Morgana shook her head, looking out the window again. “I don’t think so. I used to… God,” she breathed out a whisper of a laugh, “I used to hope that he’d acknowledge me publicly. After he told us, I mean, once I knew he was my father. Now… Now I just think I need to cut my losses. He can’t even say it to my face that he’s my father, how could he say it to the entire country?”

Arthur nodded. He remembered being told that Morgana was his half sister when she turned eighteen. It had been a condition of her mother’s will, Uther had told them, that Morgana know, and Arthur— even at sixteen— had understood what Uther _wasn’t_ saying. That he would have been happy to let Morgana live in ignorance her entire life if that hadn’t been the case.

“Morgana—” Arthur wet his lips. “Do you… Do you want to leave?”

Morgana shrugged, not looking at him. “Not right now.” She turned to him with a small, sad smile. “But we’ll see. I promise I’ll let you know first if I do.”

Arthur smiled back. “Alright. And if there’s anything I can do to help with Uther…”

“I’ll ask. Really.” She took a deep breath, pushing her hair back from her face and siting up straighter. “And thank you.”

“Anytime.”

* * *

To: merlin.emrys@gmail.com  
From: apendragon@gmail.com  
Subject: honesty as youthful rebellion  
 _Sent 5 July, 2019_

Merlin,

I have no qualms with your assessment of my father. They are perhaps the not the words I would have chosen, and I don’t think it counts as treason… but even if it were I would support your statement.

My time at the palace has been… challenging. Morgana and my father have been fighting (he is entirely at fault), my father’s decided that I should develop more of a public persona, and I am constantly reminded of the artifice and lies that seem to infuse everything in recent family history. Or maybe it’s just my father.

So: honesty. And taking you up on your offer in an attempt to deliberately avoid what I see my father doing with everyone around him. Here goes.

My mother either didn’t die as unexpectedly as I thought or my father was unaware the extent to which some complications were expected with my delivery. I don’t know the details, but I found some letters to her that were enough to unsettle a lot of what I thought I knew about her death, and… yeah. Unsettled is pretty much the best word for the whole thing on every possible level. I’m going to ask my father about it when I can figure out how, and in the meantime Morgana’s helping me to try to get in touch with the woman who wrote the letters.  
It sounds far less complicated as I write it out than it does in my head, but I need to know if there was a chance that she could have lived, or if her death really was as unavoidable as my father’s always made it sound. This is stupid, but it feels like her life was the cost of mine.

Anyway.

I’m glad to hear about Gwen and Lance. You really don’t need to apologize, though. Aside from Lance they weren’t really my friends, they were yours. It makes sense that we didn’t see any more of each other after the two of us split up.

Once again I find myself taking somewhat longer than I’d hoped to reply, even if I’ve halved my last response time. Maybe we should move to text? Or even have a call sometime. Only if you’d want, obviously.

With a panoply of various exhaustions,  
Arthur

_Sat, 6 Jul, 11:37 AM_  
 **Merlin:** Hey, it’s me  
 **Merlin:** Merlin, I mean. I dunno if you kept my number in your contacts  
 **Merlin:** Anyway, I just got your email, thanks for telling me all that. It sounds like a pretty shitty time, I’m sorry about it. How’s Sunday for a call?  
 **Arthur:** Sunday works me, as long as it’s after four  
 **Arthur:** How have you been?  
 **Merlin:** Pretty good. Anything not shitty happening with you?  
 **Arthur:** Surprisingly little…

* * *

Sunday morning, Merlin woke up to Gwaine calling him and telling him to look out the window. Merlin dragged himself out of bed and was greeted with Gwaine standing in the street outside, carrying a frisbee and a backpack and waving cheerily. They went to a part of campus where they’d spent sunny afternoons and breaks between classes for much of their time as students. They tossed the frisbee back and forth a couple times, but pretty soon they lay down on a blanket Gwaine had brought, eating the junk food he’d filled the backpack with. The park wasn’t too busy, and they lapsed into a pleasant silence, watching the occasional passerby.

Merlin’s phone buzzed for about the fifth time in the past ten minutes, and he picked it up and started typing out a response. Gwaine smirked at him as he finished typing and turned it face down on the blanket again.

“So I take it you’ve moved off email.”

Merlin didn’t bother asking how he knew it was Arthur. “Yeah. We’re gonna talk on Skype tonight, it’s easier to figure out the timing and stuff by text.”

Gwaine whistled. “Skype. I’m impressed.”

“Shut up.”

“Are you planning on adding him back to the groupchat?”

“Er, maybe.” Merlin picked up his phone again as it vibrated with another text. “Depends on what the others think about it, doesn’t it?”

“Gwen and Lance would be on board,” Gwaine said. “And as long as you’re happy, I’m happy.”

“Yeah…” Merlin said. Another text came in from Arthur and he typed out a quick reply before putting his phone down again. “He’s got a lot going on right now, but I’ll bring it up.”

“Royal duties?” Gwaine lifted an eyebrow.

“Sort of.” Merlin looked down at the blanket. His phone buzzed again and he flipped it face up, reading the text without answering.

“There’s some, er, family stuff, too. I’m not sure I should talk about it.”

Gwaine nodded. “Understood.” He pushed his hair back from his face with one hand. “Hey, have I told you my sister’s coming to visit?”

“You haven’t. When’s she coming? I don’t think I’ve ever met her.”

“Haven’t you? I thought you had. Well, anyway it’s next week, you can meet her then if you like. She’s bringing her boyfriend, though, which might make things a little rocky since he hates me…” Gwaine sighed. “But I’ll make sure to have Percy around for intimidation if necessary.”

Merlin grinned. “How’d you two become friends so fast? You hang out with him more than Lance does at this point.”

“Yeah, well Lance’s busy with Gwen, isn’t he? And it’s not my fault I’ve got a magnetic personality.”  
Merlin laughed. “Is that what we’re calling it?”

“Hey! I am very charismatic.”

“You’re _something_ —” Merlin’s phone went off again and he picked it up, tapping out a response.

“What’s he saying?” Gwaine leaned over to try and look at the phone screen.

Merlin tilted the phone away on instinct. “Just asking what’s going on.”

“And?”

“I told him I’m hanging out with you so I’m gonna stop texting him and do that.” Merlin sat up and tucked his phone into his pocket.

“I’m flattered.” Gwaine grinned, picking a clover flower and rolling the stem between his fingers. He looked at it as he asked. “So… And I don’t want to doubt you or anything here, just checking in… What you said to Will last week.” He looked up at Merlin, raising his eyebrows.

Merlin looked back. “What I said to Will about…?” he prompted.

Gwaine sighed. “Do you think you’ll be getting back together with Arthur or not?” he asked bluntly. “Because I’m happy to be friends with the bloke if that’s what we’re doing,” he continued, gesturing with the flower, “and I’m happy to support you in your efforts to go get your man if it’s that. But I need to know what I’m doing. And I’m not just gonna watch you moon over him again when the two of you have been through a messy split once if it’s all gonna end in tears.”

Merlin opened his mouth, but as he did his phone started to ring, preempting his answer. “Hang on, sorry.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket, looking at the caller ID. “It’s Mum, I should take this.”

Merlin stood up, answering the phone as he did, and walking a few steps away from the blanket.

“Hello?”

“Merlin! Hello darling.” His mother’s voice sounded higher than usual. “I… I thought you’d want to hear this as soon as possible.”

* * *

 _Sun, Jul 7, 3:45 PM_  
 **Merlin:** Hey, do you think we could reschedule the Skype call? Something’s come up  
 **Arthur:** Sure, let me know when works better. Is everything all right?  
 **Merlin:** Sort of. I’ve just gotta go back to Ealdor kind of unexpectedly  
 **Merlin:** Me and Will’re catching a train tonight, I’ll let you know when I’m free once I get settled in and everything  
 **Arthur:** Of course. I hope everything’s okay  
 **Merlin:** Yeah  
 **Merlin:** Well. It’s complicated. I’ll explain more later

* * *

“Arthur, there you are, good. I’ve— Are you alright?”

Arthur glanced up from his phone. Morgana was standing in the door to his room, one hand on the handle and a concerned look.

“I’m fine,” He told her, looking back at his conversation with Merlin, trying to figure out how (or if) he should respond. “Come in, sit down,” he told her absently.

She shut the door and took a few steps inside, sitting down next to him on his bed. “What’s going on?”

Arthur looked up at her again. Morgana was dressed casually for her standards, with her hair in a loose braid. Her face was still arranged in a concerned expression, her pale green eyes boring into him.

“Uh, Merlin,” he said lightly, indicating his phone. “He’s texting me and I was just trying to figure out what to say.”

“What?” Morgana’s eyebrows shot up. “What does he want?”

“No, it’s not— We’ve been texting for a few days,” Arthur backtracked. “And emailing before that, it’s not… He’s just had to go back to Ealdor suddenly, he hasn’t said why and I’m not really sure what to say about it without prying.”

“Oh.” Morgana opened her mouth, then closed it again with a frown. She looked at him, eyes narrowed in confusion. “I think you’re going to have to explain this to me from the start.”

Arthur sighed. He looked down at the blank screen of his phone again before setting it aside. “I emailed him in April,” he told her. “I thought…” he pursed his lips, trying to figure out how to best phrase it. “He’s someone who mattered to me beyond being in a relationship, and that… That doesn’t stop just because we broke up,” Arthur said, frowning at the bedclothes, “or, at least, it didn’t in my case, I suppose.” He looked at Morgana. “Is that, I don't know, strange?”

“I’m really not the person ask, remember?” Morgana said with a laugh. “But it makes perfect sense to me. I’ve never seen why people make such a big deal of being on good terms with exes, anyway. If you care about someone enough to date them, I assume that’s got to mean something beyond just a romantic context, hasn’t it?”

Arthur shrugged.

She tilted her head to one side, looking at him with interest. “So you’ve been in touch since April? How’s it going?”

“Late May, actually,” Arthur corrected her. “When it comes to speaking regularly, at least.” He looked down at his hands and ran his thumb absentmindedly against his ring, turning it slowly. “I think it’s going well, I don’t know. We’re texting,” he nodded at his phone, “and we were supposed to be talking on Skype in about an hour, but like I said Merlin’s had to go home suddenly.” Arthur sighed. He flopped backward onto the bed so he was lying down and shut his eyes, covering his face with his hands. “I was looking forward to it, too. These past few weeks have been…”

“Long?”

“Hmm.” Arthur dropped his arms, letting them fall so they were spread wide on either side of him.

There was a rustling followed by two faint clunks, and Arthur opened his eyes to see that Morgana had kicked off her shoes and was sitting with her legs crossed, facing him. Arthur propped himself up on his elbows.

“He wasn’t always this bad, was he?”

Morgana shrugged. “I don’t even know anymore.” She sighed, pulling her braid over her shoulder and tugging at the end of it. “Any new developments?”

“Not particularly.” Arthur let himself drop back into the mattress again. After a moment he said, “We had a conversation today about what Elena and I should do when she visits. He still hasn’t said anything directly, but I think he’d like it if our excursions were something other than platonic.” Arthur stared up at the ceiling and added darkly, “He’s been making it pretty clear that he’d prefer I ignore the attracted to men part of my bisexuality. So,” he lifted his hands off the bed and let them flop down again, “there’s that. He hasn’t mentioned anything about non-binary people because why would he, but I’m guessing that would also be frowned on.”

Morgana didn’t answer and Arthur rolled over on his side to look at her.

“You’ve never said how he is with you about that sort of thing.”

Morgana looked surprised. “Oh, I’m not out to him.”

Arthur frowned. “Really? I thought… I mean, you don’t make a secret of it, you did that interview during pride last year.”

“You think _Uther_ would have seen that interview? It’s not even on the first page of google when you search for my name, it only comes up if you add ‘aromantic’. It’s on my wikipedia page, but I can’t see Uther looking at that either.”

“Fair.” Arthur paused. “Wait. Why’d you tell me then? I mean,” Arthur pushed himself up on one elbow, “if I’d been out then I’d understand, but you came out when I was, what… fifteen? I didn’t even really start questioning for another year or so.”

Morgana gave him a strange look. “You’re not Uther, no matter what he thinks. I knew you would listen to me, even if there was a chance you wouldn’t understand right away.”

“Oh.” Arthur looked at her for a long moment, not quite sure how to answer. “Thanks.” He looked down at the bedspread, smoothing out some of the wrinkles. He looked up, suddenly remembering something. “Did you have something you wanted to talk about?”

“Yes!” Morgana's eyes went wide, she twisted around, reaching for her phone where she’d put it on Arthur’s bedside table. “Morgause was able to get in touch with Nimueh. She found an address for her in some of our mother’s things and luckily she hasn’t moved. Here,” Morgana took a sticky note from the back of her phone and held it out to Arthur. “Nimueh wanted Morgause to pass along her number. Her address is on there too, though I don’t think you’ll need it.”

Arthur sat up, taking the sticky note from her. He held it in both hands to look at it. As Morgana said, it bore a phone number, and under it was an address on some island he’d never heard of.

“Thank you.”

“Are you going to use it?”

Arthur kept looking at the small slip of paper, his eyes tracing the familiar shapes of Morgana’s looping handwriting. “Yes,” he said finally. “Not right away, I need to figure out what I’m going to say first, but once I do, yeah. I’ll call her.” He felt like he was deciding as he said it, or maybe just convincing himself that was the right choice.

“Good.” Morgana pushed herself to the edge of the bed, bending over to pick up her shoes. “I should probably get going, I’ve got some things to take care of with work before people clock out for the night.”

“How’s that been?” Arthur asked, tucking the sticky note into his pocket and standing up as she did. “I mean, has he said anything about…”

Morgana’s expression soured. “No. He’s doing what he always does, acting like nothing’s happened, not changing his behaviour at all.”

“I’m sorry,” Arthur said. “And I know you said you don’t want him to acknowledge you— officially I mean, to legitimize you. But I’m still sorry about that, too. That no one knows, I mean.”

“Arthur, I’ve told you, it’s not your fault.”

“Not about that,” Arthur said, frowning. “I just…” He took a deep breath. “I have something you don’t, I have a position that you’ve never occupied, even though if he were less of a coward you would. You’re older than I am, you’re better at knowing how to deal with people, how to be a public figure—”

“Please, I’m much less of a public figure than either you or Uther.”

“And you’d be just as good at it if you were in my shoes. Sometimes—” Arthur broke off, hesitating.

Morgana looked at him expectantly.

“Never mind,” Arthur said, smiling at here with what felt like a monumental effort. “I’m just tired. Let me know if there’s anything I can do with Father.”

“I will,” Morgana reassured him. “Tell me when you call Nimueh, alright?”

Arthur nodded. “Will do.”

* * *

 _Mon, 8 Jul, 9:17 AM_  
 **Arthur:** Hey, how’s Ealdor?  
 **Arthur:** No pressure to get back to me quickly or anything, but I hope you’re all right and Hunith’s well. Let me know when’s a good time to talk, I’m free for sure Thursday evening, and probably some time on the weekend

* * *

Merlin and Will got to Ealdor late. Will was able to sleep on the train towards the end, but Merlin spent most of the time staring out the increasingly darkening window, knees bouncing anxiously. A couple of times he took out his phone and started to type out texts— to his mum, to Arthur, to the groupchat— only to delete them and put his phone away again. He didn’t know what he was supposed to say.

When they finally pulled into the small station closest to Ealdor, Matthew, a family friend, met them with his car and drove them to Hunith’s. Will’s remaining family in Ealdor had moved away shortly after he did, so he was staying with Merlin and Hunith in their guest room. Matthew took their bags out of his trunk then left Will and Merlin alone, standing at the end of the front walk.

The lights on the ground floor were on, and warm light glowed from behind the curtains. Merlin suddenly felt a knot in his throat and he tightened his grip on the straps of his backpack. His mother hadn’t really explained much on the phone, Merlin didn’t know what he should expect to find when he walked in the door, he didn’t know what he would be expected to say, if he should have spent more of the train ride figuring that out, preparing himself. His mind flashed to the notebook he’d kept as a kid, writing down important things that happened in case…

Will slung his duffle bag over his shoulder and started up the path, but Merlin reached out and grabbed his sleeve, stopping him. He felt rooted to the spot.

“Will—” Merlin’s voice felt like it had to fight past the knot.

“What’s up?” In the half light from the street lamps, Will looked down at where Merlin’s fingers were twisted in the fabric of his shirt.

“What if he’s in there?”

“Right now?” Will glanced up at the house. “Nah, no way Hunith would let him step foot over the threshold without a damn good reason. I bet he’s staying at the B&B. Or in one of Mary’s rooms that she rents out sometimes.”

Merlin swallowed, he still felt like he couldn’t move. Gently, Will reached out and untangled Merlin’s fingers from his sleeve. He took a step back so he was standing next to Merlin again and nudged him in the ribs.

“Come on,” he said. “It’ll be okay. Even if your dad is there, it’ll be okay. I promise.”

He wasn’t there, of course, Will was right. Merlin was pretty sure that was less because his mum would have turned Balinor out on the street and more because it was probably pretty weird to stay in the same house as your ex you hadn’t spoken to in about twenty-one years, but either way the result was the same. They didn’t talk much that night. As soon as he stepped through the door, Merlin felt a wave of exhaustion wash over him. It must have shown on his face because after brief hugs and few questions about the train, his mum hurried them both off to bed. She hadn’t had time to finish making up the guest room, so Will slept on the same camp bed he’d always used for sleepovers when he and Merlin were little, which made Merlin feel better somehow. Will’s snores (because he _did_ snore, whatever he said to the contrary) and being surrounded by the familiar shapes of the room at night were comforting in an odd way. They were small patched of normal in what felt like an otherwise upended world, and Merlin fell asleep quickly.

He slept in the next morning. Will was still asleep when he woke up, and Merlin was careful not to make too much noise as he grabbed his phone and a pair of jeans and slipped down the hall to the bathroom. He had a text from Arthur, asking about Ealdor, and another suggesting they figure out a time to talk. Merlin changed out of his pyjamas and grabbed his toothbrush, moving it over his teeth slowly as he picked up his phone to reply.

 _Ealdor’s good so far,_ Merlin wrote. _We got in pretty late last night. I don’t know when I’ll be free but I should have a better idea later today._

He thought about saying something about why he was there, but decided against it. Merlin had told Arthur the basics— that his father had left before Merlin was born and they’d never met— but other than that they’d never talked much about Merlin’s family life. Arthur had heard stories about Merlin’s mum, and about things Merlin and Will had done, but they were mostly recent and only the simple ones. The things that were easy to tell at a pub or a party with interjections from Will. The stories with a well worn rhythm, the ones that always got laughs or sympathetic groans in the right places. The ones Merlin knew how to tell people.

They didn’t include the times Hunith was stuck between jobs because she was either over-qualified or under-qualified for everything she applied for, and they had to rely on the kindness of family friends or Gaius’s generosity. They didn’t include the run-ins with bullies, or when Will started getting into fights after his mum died. They didn’t include the slow dwindling of Ealdor’s local vigour, the creep of big businesses and how most of the adults Merlin knew growing up spent more evenings in the pub than was probably good for them— or how no one ever talked about it. There were a thousand tiny ways that the childhood of Merlin’s stories was a smoother, more palatable version than the one he’d actually had.

Merlin spit into he sink and rinsed his toothbrush. Wiping his hands quickly on the hand towel, he grabbed his pyjamas left the bathroom. Merlin tossed the pyjamas over Will and onto his bed from the doorway before he headed downstairs to the kitchen. His mum was standing in front of the sink, washing dishes.

“Morning.” She smiled at him, half turning around, as he came in. “There’s pancakes on the table if you want some.”

“Thanks.” Merlin reached past her to get a plate from the cupboard and sat down, lifting the lid off the dish on the table.

His mum put the plate she was washing into the dish rack and took a tea towel from the oven door handle, drying her hands and joining Merlin at the table. She watched Merlin help himself, her hands loosely clasped on the table in front of her. Merlin spread butter over the still-warm pancakes, avoiding her eyes. He added syrup and took a couple bites, realizing as he did just how hungry he was and attacking the plate with gusto. As he swallowed the last bite, Merlin sat back in his chair, wiping his mouth with his napkin.

“They were really good, thanks Mum.”

She smiled. “Have more if you like, just be sure to leave some for Will when he gets up.”

“That might not be for a while,” Merlin said grinning. “He generally stays in bed until noon unless he’s got work.”

“Well, we’ll just have to warm them up for him then.”

“Yeah.” Merlin’s grin faded. He swallowed, looking down at his empty plate, pushing the leftover syrup around with his fork. “Mum…”

“Yes, dear?”

Merlin looked up. “What’s he like?”

His mother looked down at her hands, spreading out the tea towel on the table as she spoke. “I don’t know. I know what he _was_ like, and I could tell you about the kind of man he was when I knew him…” She looked up at the ceiling, sighing. “But I don’t know that I could speak to who he is now, and I don’t want you to meet him with my assumptions about who that might be.”

“But I don’t even know who he used to be,” Merlin told her. “We’ve never talked about him, all I know is that you met when he was here studying birds.”

“You’ve never asked much about him,” she answered, giving him a small smile. “And I didn’t expect that he’d ever be a part of your life, there didn’t seem to be a reason to tell you much. But,” she continued, pulling herself more upright, “like you said, he was here studying birds. Falcons, mostly. He was renting a place next door to mine and we started going out. I thought for a bit— well, I think maybe he thought too, that he would stay in town, but he didn’t. His work took him elsewhere and I didn’t have a way to get in touch with him by the time you came around. I didn’t feel like I needed to, really. I had your grandparents and Will’s family, and most of the town if I’d wanted.”

Merlin nodded. He looked down at his plate again, drawing squiggles in the syrup with his fork. He knew bits of the story already, but he’d never asked his mother for the whole thing. He shifted his position in the chair. “How’d he find you?”

“He said he had a friend look me up on Facebook. I don’t think he’s particularly computer savvy himself.”

“And, what, he just turned up?”

“We talking about Balinor?” Will came into the kitchen, wearing a t-shirt and a pair of boxers. He plopped himself down at the table and pulled the plate with the remaining pancakes towards him, liberally dousing them in syrup.

“Yeah,” Merlin answered, sliding his fork and knife over to Will. Will took the fork and used it to shove a giant bite into his mouth.

Hunith gave Will an amused smile before turning back to Merlin. “He came to town, yes. He went to the pub and asked about me yesterday. They called me up and I went to meet him.”

Will swallowed. “I hope you told him he’s an arse.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“But he walked out on you! He deserves it.”

She took a deep breath, smiling at Will again. “It was a long time ago. I’m not saying he was blameless, but I don’t think he’s an _arse_ , as you put it.”

Merlin leaned forward. “Did he tell you why he came back? I mean, why now?”

“He didn’t. He did say he didn’t expect anything to happen between the two of us, but that he wanted to at least reconnect and that he’d like to try to have a relationship with you, if you wanted. I told him I’d talk to you about it.”

“Yeah,” Merlin answered quickly, “yeah, I’d like that.” He could feel Will’s gaze fixed on him. “At least to meet him, I mean. To try.” He looked at his mother, searching her face to try and figure out what she thought of it. “I’ve got to at least try, right?”

“That’s up to you,” she told him. “But I am glad you want to.”

Merlin went to meet Balinor that afternoon at the bed and breakfast just off Ealdor’s main street. It was an overcast day, and he was misted with rain as he walked the few blocks from his house. He rang the bell sitting on the front desk, and waited, fiddling anxiously with the zipper on his jacket.

“Hi, what can I do for you?” A guy a couple years older than Merlin came through the door behind the counter and smiled. Merlin vaguely recognized him as being related to the owners, but couldn’t remember his name.

“Hi.” Merlin swallowed. “I’m, uh, here to see Balinor?”

“Ah, right. Merlin?”

“Yeah.”

“He’s expecting you, just head up. It’s the second floor, room 203.”

“Thanks.”

Merlin gripped the handrail tightly as he climbed up the stairs. His mouth felt dry and it seemed like there was an empty space where his intestines had been. When he reached the carpeted hallway of the second floor, Merlin walked down it slowly. There were only a few rooms on each floor, and Balinor’s room was by the end of the hall, a small circular nameplate proclaiming it to be number 203. Heart pounding, Merlin raised his hand and knocked.

“It’s open.”

Merlin let himself in and shut the door behind him. He barely took in any of the room itself, his eyes were glued to the man standing in front of him. He was slightly shorter than Merlin, but broader, with a greying beard and dark, shoulder length hair pushed back from his face. His deep-set eyes had a slightly sad look to them.

Merlin realized he was staring and shook himself, holding out one hand. “Hi. I’m, um, I’m Merlin.”

Balinor looked down at the offered hand for a long moment before taking it. “Balinor.” He gave Merlin’s hand a firm shake and let go, taking a few steps back into the room. “Your mum always liked the name Merlin. I was glad to see she’d picked it.” He spoke with an Irish accent.

“Er, yeah. Most people think it’s a little weird, but I like it.”

Balinor nodded, turning slightly towards the window behind him. Merlin took a couple steps forward and waited.

When Balinor didn’t say anything he asked, “So, um, where are you from?”

“Armagh. In Northern Ireland.” Balinor turned towards him again. “But I haven’t been back there for a long time. I’ve spent most of the past few years in Eastern Europe for work.”

“What do you do?”

“I’m part of a team that studies migration and breeding habits of red-footed falcons, currently. We’ve been tracking the same group for over a decade now.” Balinor ran one hand through his hair. “What about you? Are you in school?”

“Er, sort of. I’ve just finished my undergrad at Camelot University, and I’ve applied to a couple places for a Master’s in Medieval Studies.”

Balinor nodded slowly. He didn’t seem to know what to say to Merlin’s answer.

They were still standing several feet apart. The room was bright and clean, it looked nearly unoccupied aside from the dark rucksack leaning in the corner, still packed. Merlin cleared his throat.

“Er…”

At the same time, Balinor said, “I’m sorry.”

Merlin blinked. Balinor sat down on the corner of the bed and ran his hands through his hair, sighing.

“I don’t know how to be anyone’s father. I’d like to know you, if you’re open to that, and I’d like you to have the chance to know me if you think I’m the sort of person you’d like to know. But I’m not sure I know how to begin that process.”

“That’s fine.” Merlin took a step forward. “I don’t know how either. I’m not sure there is really a set way of doing that.”

Balinor smiled at him. “No, I suppose you’re right.”

“I could show you around the village if you want,” Merlin offered. “Or you could tell me more about your work.”

“I’d like that.” Balinor stood up. “Let me get my coat.”

The walk was mostly quiet. Merlin led him down the main street, and down a few of the sideroads, showing him the notable parts of the village (most of which hadn’t changed much in the past twenty-one years) as well as a few of his own favourite spots. Eventually, Balinor started talking about his work, telling Merlin about different types of falcons and hawks, and explaining some of the details of his current job. His explanations were terse and straightforward, and he didn’t seem accustomed to talking for long stretches of time. They said goodbye back at the B&B, a little awkwardly, and Merlin walked home feeling relieved and a little giddy.

It had gone well. It had gone far better than he’d expected, at least, even if Balinor still seemed a little stiff and they didn’t quite know how to speak to each other yet. Merlin wasn’t sure how much more time they’d have now— he’d only managed to get the week off work on such short notice and he didn’t want to assume Balinor would stay in town forever, but he was hopeful. He had never really felt like he missed having a father, or even felt particularly bothered by his absence. Like his mother had said, he’d had about half the village helping raise him at one time or another. He used wondered about what kind of man his father was, about whether he’d ever come back one day, but as he got older it mattered less and less

Merlin didn’t know if he’d ever get to a point where Balinor felt like his vague idea of what a father was, or if he wanted that to happen. But he did want Balinor to be _something_ to him. And their conversation, short though it had been, had made him hopeful that could happen.

* * *

 _Wed, 10 Jul, 2:36 PM_  
 **Merlin:** Hey  
 **Merlin:** Sorry I haven’t been more in touch, things are kind of hectic  
 **Merlin:** Tomorrow’s looking good for talking, though, if you’re still up for it  
 **Arthur:** Great. Is nine too late? I’ve got a dinner interview I can’t get out of  
 **Merlin:** Yeah that’s fine, talk to you then

 _Thurs, 11 Jun, 7:09 PM_  
 **Arthur:** I’m really sorry but I can’t make it tonight, the dinner’s looking like it’ll probably run long  
 **Merlin:** Don’t worry about it. Tomorrow?  
 **Arthur:** Sure

 _Fri, 12 Jun, 5:58 PM_  
 **Merlin:** Sorry, it’s looking like tonight won’t work after all… I’ve got to finish setting up my laptop with everything I need to work remote  
 **Merlin:** This weekend should be good though, or most of next week  
 **Arthur:** You’re staying in Ealdor then?  
 **Merlin:** Yeah. At least until August, assuming I can get this set up  
 **Merlin:** I’m like nearly done, but it’ll still probably take a while…  
 **Arthur:** All right, next week then? I think I’ve got some free time Sunday, but I can’t promise anything. I could also do any time Tuesday, or Wednesday morning  
 **Merlin:** Let’s say Tuesday. The only, like, immovable thing I have going on is happening Monday night  
 **Arthur:** Great. I’ll schedule it as an official appointment so I can actually guarantee I won’t have to cancel again  
 **Merlin:** Lol, sounds good.  
 **Merlin:** Talk to you then

* * *

Arthur checked his phone for, if he had to guess, approximately the fifteenth time in the last ten minutes. There were no voicemails. No missed calls. Arthur sighed and put his phone back into his pocket, fidgeting with his mother’s ring and pacing back and forth in his room. He sat down at his desk, picking up the book he’d left there. He put it down again after about half a paragraph and got up to pace again.

This had been going on, to varying degrees, for nearly a week— ever since he’d called the number Morgana had given him, only for it to go to voicemail after several rings. Arthur had left Nimueh a message, and resigned himself to waiting. Actually, he’d resigned himself to waiting for all of a day, called back, gotten voicemail again, done the same thing two days later _and then_ resigned himself to waiting for her to call him.

Being busy had been a plus, for once. Even if he had less patience than usual for the pointless things his father was coming up with to fill his days, there was less opportunity to stew when he had to at least appear to be paying attention. Texting Merlin had been some distraction, but they hadn’t really been conversing properly since Merlin arrived in Ealdor, so not as much as it could be. Among the many times he’d picked up his phone, Arthur had drafted a couple texts to Lance, before ultimately deleting all of them. He could figure out anything to say that didn’t sound horrendously awkward reading it back, and he only had so much energy for being stressed about long-distance communications.

Running his hands over his face, Arthur flopped backwards onto his bed. He stared at the ceiling for a long minute before closing his eyes, giving in to the exhaustion he was feeling.

He woke up to something buzzing against his thigh. Arthur opened his eyes slowly, blinking at the ceiling, trying to remember what he’d been doing before he fell asleep. A second later, he jumped up, fumbling to get his phone out of his pocket as quickly as possible, terrified that he wouldn’t be able to answer it before it stopped ringing.

“Hello?” Arthur held his breath, willing his heart to stop pounding.

“Hi… Is this the number for Arthur Pendragon?” The woman’s voice was smooth and calm, almost bored.

Arthur swallowed. “Nimueh?”

“Yes.” There was a faint rustle from her end. “I assume this _is_ Arthur, then?”

“Yes, sorry, that’s me.”

“I’m sorry I took so long to get back to you, I was called out of town unexpectedly and I’m one of the few luddites who clings to using a landline over a cell.”

“That’s fine,” Arthur said, wondering if she could hear how nervous he was. Without thinking, he started fiddling with his mother’s ring again. “Thank you for getting back to me at all.”

“Of course,” Nimueh said, still sounding almost bafflingly casual. “I’m a little surprised you were even able to track me down… I’m guessing Uther doesn’t know you’re talking to me.”

“I haven’t told him, no,” Arthur answered, though it was barely a question.

Nimueh laughed musically. “Good.” She sighed. “Anyway, Morgause didn’t have any details and your messages were fairly sparse… What were you hoping to talk to me about?”

“I…” his mouth was dry all of a sudden and he had a fleeting thought that he should just hang up, back out now and stay in ignorance. Bury all the nagging questions at the back of his mind and never wonder about it again. Arthur licked his lips. “I was hoping you could answer some questions about my mother.”

Nimueh paused for so long that Arthur was worried she wouldn’t want to talk to him after all.

“Er, hello?”

“Yes, I’m still here.” Her casual tone was gone. “What has Uther told you?”

“Next to nothing,” Arthur answered. “I’ve heard some stories about how they met, and a little bit about her philanthropy but that’s it.”

“I see. And why are you calling me?”

Arthur was taken aback. “Sorry?”

“Well, Ygraine was a very well-loved woman. She had a number of friends and has, as I understand, one living brother, all of whom would be easier for you to contact and speak to than I am. So. Either you’re incredibly thorough in learning about your antecedents, or,” Nimueh paused, letting the word hang with an ominous weight, “you think there’s something I can tell you that those people can’t. And I’d be willing to wager money it’s not the former.”

Arthur hesitated, trying to figure out where to start. “I, ah, I found some of your letters…” he started, speaking slowly.

“I see. Go on.”

“I didn’t even know you existed beforehand,” Arthur explained, the words coming more quickly. “I was going through some of her old things, and they were tucked into the back of a sketchbook and I decided to read through them.” He paused, wondering if Nimueh would consider that an invasion of privacy. She didn’t say anything though, so he just swallowed and kept going. “The last one… I don’t know if you remember it or not, but you talk about—”

“I remember it,” Nimueh interrupted. “Don’t worry.”

“Right, well. The thing is,” Arthur took a deep breath, “I don’t know much about how she died. And… Well, my father doesn’t talk about it but I’d always sort of gathered it was… That is to say…”

“Uther’s never made it seem like anything other than a tragic and unavoidable accident,” Nimueh finished.

“Uh, yes. More or less.”

“And you want me to tell you what happened.” It was impossible to tell what Nimueh was feeling.

“Please,” he said, “I… I need to know.”

Nimueh didn’t say anything. Arthur could hear the faint background noises from her end of her line. Just as Arthur was opening his mouth to say something, Nimueh spoke.

“She had preeclampsia.” Her tone was matter of fact, but there was something beneath it, something hard and sour. “It’s a blood pressure condition, not especially common, and not normally that much of a problem. As long as you catch it early, there are plenty of ways to treat it. If you don’t…” Nimueh took a deep breath, her exhale rushing past the phone with a slight crackle. “Did you know you were conceived in-vitro?”

Arthur was surprised to be asked a question. “No,” he answered.

“Hm. Well, you were. Your parents were having trouble conceiving and Uther would have done anything for a child. IVF puts the risk of preeclampsia a little higher, and I told them that at the time.” She paused again. “I don’t know what happened, whether Ygraine didn’t notice any symptoms, or if she did and didn’t tell the other doctors… Or if she told them they just didn’t take them seriously. But,” Nimueh’s voice twisted itself with pointed frustration, though Arthur didn’t get the impression it was aimed at him, “I was out of the country on a trip that I’d had planned for months, and they didn’t catch it until fairly late in her third trimester.”

“What happened?” Arthur asked quietly.

“I came back to England as quickly as I could,” Nimueh told him. “We had a few options, and my first choice would have been to induce labour early.”

Arthur felt a mounting sense of dread. “But that didn’t happen.”

“No, it didn’t. You weren’t in the best condition, there was some potential risk, and Uther was insistent that I not do anything that would add to that risk.” Nimueh made a small scornful noise. “So, we performed a c-section. Ygraine died of a stroke during the procedure.”  
Arthur let Nimueh’s words sink in, turning them over in his mind slowly, making sure he fully understood. “So,” he said at last, his own voice sounding distant to him. “if you hadn’t…”

“I can’t know for sure.” The edge of bitterness in Nimueh’s voice was dulled, slightly. “But what I can tell you is I quite honestly presented your father with the options and he told me in as many words that he’d rather save you than Ygraine. To which I told him that if he and his doctors had listened to me sooner he wouldn’t have had to choose between his wife and his son.” Another crackly breath echoed in Arthur’s ear. “Jackass,” she added, half muttering.

Arthur tired to say something and couldn’t. He felt like he was pulling away from himself, like the Arthur Pendragon standing in warm light of his bedroom window with his phone to his ear was just a dumb, empty shell.

Nimueh’s tone softened, all frustration draining away. “I’m sorry, Arthur. Really, I am.”

“What did she want?” Arthur asked, surprising himself. In the pause before Nimueh answered he managed to gather himself to add. “I mean, did you ask her at all about what she would rather do?”

“Of course I did,” Nimueh sounded almost scornful. “I just made the mistake of doing so after letting your father talk to her. She went along with his decision.”

Arthur nodded, remembering as he did that she couldn’t see him. “Right. Thanks.”

They were both quiet. Arthur stared out his window at the brilliant late afternoon sky, his mind blank. After a what felt like a million years or half a second, Nimueh said softly, “Arthur?”

“Yes,” he said without thinking.

“Are you alright?”

“I don’t know,” he said honestly. “I think… I think I just need some time.”

“Alright. Feel free to call me anytime, you have my number.”

“Yeah, thank you.”

“Goodbye, Arthur.” There were three short beeps as Nimueh hung up.

Arthur let his hand drop heavily to his side, his phone a smooth, unfeeling anchor in his palm. He felt numb, overwhelmed. Nimueh’s words bored themselves into his mind, branding themselves into the inside of his skull and glaring back at any thoughts that tried to come together, making them disperse again. Slowly, feeling like his muscles were made of wood, Arthur moved to his desk, slumping over in the chair. His father’s reticence to talk about Ygraine’s death no longer felt like the deep bereavement of a still heartbroken widower, it felt like another carefully crafted and maintained performance. Just another façade. Arthur felt adrift, sinking into a sea of increasingly unnavigable depths.

He didn’t know how long he sat there. The next time he looked at the clock, he distantly registered that if he didn’t get up he wouldn’t have time to get ready for dinner. He didn’t move. Eventually, he was shaken from his thoughts by an alert from his phone. It was a text from Merlin. Arthur had missed several texts from him, apparently, starting with a number of photographs of cows that afternoon, followed by a question about how he was, then another that was just a question mark about an hour after. The latest one read _I know you’re busy but your lack of response to my objectively amazing cow pictures is very disappointing_. Arthur stared at the messages, then put his phone back onto his desk screen-down and stood up, crossing to his bed. Lying down, he stared up at the ceiling and hoped sleep would come quickly.

The next morning he had breakfast with his father. Arthur considered skipping it. It had taken him hours to get to sleep the night before and he felt drained, exhausted. He didn’t know what he would say to Uther when he saw him and he didn’t think he wanted to find out. Arthur rolled over in bed and his stomach let out a loud rumble, reminding him he hadn’t eaten anything since lunch the day before. He sighed and dragged himself to his feet. He’d slept in his clothes, and he didn’t bother to change before going to meet his father.

Uther was talking to his personal assistant, George, when Arthur cracked open the door to the private parlour and slipped through. They were looking at the large leather portfolio that George used for his father’s appointments, reviewing some meeting or other between his father’s bites of sausage. It was a scene that Arthur had witnessed a thousand times and the familiarity, the _banality_ of it was jarring.

“Ah, Arthur.” Uther barely glanced at him. He nodded to George, tacitly dismissing him. “Come in.”

Arthur obeyed silently, taking his seat and taking some scrambled eggs and sausages.

“You missed dinner last night,” Uther observed. His tone was critical, but without heat. It was sharing a fact, informing Arthur of a flaw in the same casually disapproving way that he’d been doing since Arthur was a child.

“I know, I’m sorry,” Arthur said on reflex.

Uther’s eyes flicked over him. “Hm. Well, you’re here now. I was hoping we could discuss rescheduling your tour.”

“Shouldn’t Morgana be here for that?”

A momentary flash of annoyance showed on his father’s face. “I’ll have someone inform her of anything we decide.”

Arthur felt a strange feeling come over him. “Well, I don’t think we should leave her out of it,” he said, deliberately ignoring how Uther’s jaw tightened. “And frankly,” Arthur added recklessly, “I don’t think you should be blaming her for something that’s your fault.” He kept his expression carefully under control, not breaking eye contact with his father.

“I am going to pretend you didn’t say that,” Uther said in a low voice. “And we are going to return to discussing the best dates for your rescheduled trip to the continent.”

“No, I don’t think we will,” Arthur told him, swallowing the fear rising in his throat and focusing instead on the hot, burning anger he felt building inside him. “You’re blaming her for something that she had no control over and treating her worse because of it. _And_ you’re ignoring all the things that she’s actually good at in favour of trying to fit her into what you want her to be!”

Uther’s expression was hard, his grip had tightened on his knife and his eyes were blazing. “Arthur… I will ask you to remember your place.”

Arthur could have laughed. “My _place_? When have you ever allowed me to forget my place? When has there been a single moment where you aren’t reminding me that I’m your son first and my own person second, that I need to be prepared to fill your shoes in exactly the way you want?”

“I have tried,” Uther said, his voice rising, “to teach you responsibility and a proper respect—”

“Respect for what?” Arthur asked incredulously. “For the crown? Look around you, father, we’re not ruling the country anymore.”

“That is enough!” Uther snapped.

Arthur ignored him. “Just because you like feeling powerful doesn’t mean you’re right about how important our so-called duty is. In fact, if you felt any actual duty to the people you’d be asking yourself if they really wanted us to still be around.”

Uther scoffed. “Is this some nonsense that _boy_ put into your head?”

“What?” Arthur was thrown by his father bringing up Merlin unprompted.

“I knew it was a mistake to let your relationship continue as long as it did,” Uther said. “His vetting showed he was loosely connected to a number of unsavoury causes.”

Arthur’s mind briefly registered that he probably meant Will’s organizing work, his free market and food collective, or maybe some of the protests he and Gwaine went to, all things Merlin would occasionally help with— but he was far more focused on the first part of what his father had said. “You… were going to break us up?”

“It was a serious consideration, yes. If it had continued past your graduation I would have had someone approach the boy with an offer.”

“You were going to _pay him off_?” Arthur was disgusted. “Would you even have told me that’s what you did?”

Uther looked at him coldly. “You would be given just as much information as you needed.”

“Of course.” A new wave of anger washed over Arthur. He tightened his hand into a fist, feeling the cold metal of Ygraine’s ring press into his palm. “Why would you tell me anything more than what suits you best.”

Uther sighed, looking more . “Arthur—”

“I know about my mother.”

A ringing silence followed his announcement. The air felt static, charged with the weight of Arthur’s words and years of Uther’s lies.

“Who told you,” Uther said at length, his voice quiet and flat.

“What does it matter?”

Uther’s jaw twitched. “Nimueh. You can’t believe anything that witch—”

“She was more honest with me than you’ve ever been!” Arthur could hear his blood rushing in his ears, his heart beating hard and fast.

“You as good as killed my mother and you can’t face that fact. You’ve made me feel like a disappointment, like I wasn’t worth what it took to get me here, when it didn’t have to be a choice to begin with, and on top of all of that you don’t even have the decency to love the kid you already had!”

Arthur’s chest was heaving, and he started at Uther for a long moment. His father didn’t say anything, just looked at him with an anger that Arthur wasn’t sure he’d ever seen directed at him.

“God, Morgana was right about you,” Arthur muttered, pushing his chair back from the table and standing up. “She’s this close to giving up on you, you know,” he added. “And I can’t say I blame her.”

Back in his room, Arthur pulled a suitcase out from his closet and started packing, haphazardly grabbing what he could without much regard for what he took. After a moment he stopped, breathing hard, and started awaking back and forth across his room. He was seething. He was shaking with anger and fear and a mounting uncertainty about what he’d said— what he’d _done_ was starting to fill him. Arthur took a few deep breaths and turned unsteadily back to the suitcase, pushing down the clothes he’d tossed in to make sure they fit. He grabbed his laptop and put it on top of the clothes, then opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out his wallet, sliding it into his pocket. Arthur closed the suitcase and looked around his room. His phone was still where he’d left it the night before on the desk. Arthur sat down and picked it up, his conversation with Merlin staring up at him when he unlocked it.

 _Hey,_ he typed, _I know it’s last minute and we were planning to talk Tuesday, but would you happen to be free tonight? I could do with talking to someone._

He hit send before he could think better of it. Standing up, Arthur grabbed his suitcase off the bed and went to go find a car.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Further content warning info: Arthur gets in contact with Nimueh about his mother’s death, and during their conversation she describes the state of Ygraine’s health. If you want to skip it, jump to “Arthur let his hand drop heavily to his side” once Nimueh and Arthur’s phone call starts.  
> All you need to know for the rest of the story is that Ygraine’s doctors missed some of her symptoms which could have fixed things early, and Uther was more worried about making sure Arthur was okay than Ygraine. Basically, I did my best to adapt Uther’s actions in canon to a modern setting, minus the Great Purge.


	2. Before

“Sorry about that!”

Arthur didn’t answer, instead staring at the person who’d just bumped into him. The guy crouched down to pick up the textbook he’d dropped, and as he straightened up he tucked it under his left arm and held out the other hand to Arthur.

“I’m Merlin, by the way.”

“Right.” Arthur said, still staring at him.

“And you are…?” Merlin prompted, raising his eyebrows.

Arthur blinked, a bemused half smile working its way onto his face. “Sorry?”

“Normally when people meet for the first time they exchange names,” Merlin said, withdrawing his hand and sticking it into his pocket. “Or are you more used to people getting announced by royal herald?”

“Right, but— You _know_ who I am,” Arthur said. “And we don’t use _heralds_.”

“Yeah,” Merlin responded, his friendly tone fading, “but I thought I’d give you a chance to say what you like to be called. You know, Arthur… your majesty… His Royal Ass-ness the Prat of Wales…”

Arthur let out a half-bemused, half-astonished huff of laughter. “You… You can’t speak to me like that.”

“Funny.” Merlin furrowed his brow, the corners of his lips quirking. “I thought I just had.”

Before Arthur had a chance to answer, Merlin was pushing roughly past him and disappearing through the doors of the classroom.

* * *

“I assign this project every year, and every year people come to me at various points between now and the due date saying they have not been able to find a partner to work with. I have little sympathy for this, but I do not relish failing students, whatever you may think. So. To that end,” Professor Kilgharrah, standing by the whiteboard at the front of the lecture hall, picked up a paper from the desk with a flourish, “I have started assigning partners. Raise your hand when I say your name so that your partner knows who you are.”

Pulling out his reading glasses, he started reading out pairs of names, pausing slightly after each pair to make sure that the students in question found each other. Merlin leaned back in his seat, fiddling with his pencil, tapping it against the open notebook in front of him.

“Merlin Ambrose.”

Merlin sat up straight, raising his hand as he brought his attention to the front. There was smallest hint of a smile on the professor’s severe, lined face as he announced, “… and Arthur Pendragon.”

Merlin glanced over at Arthur, who had half raised his own hand a few seats down, more in acknowledgement that he’d been mentioned than to identify himself. Neither of them looked particularly happy about their assigned partner.

Professor Kilgharrah moved on down his list, pairing up students. When he got to the end, he took off his glasses, folding them as he placed them back into his pocket and declared the class dismissed. In the rustle of students standing and gathering their stuff to leave, Merlin hung back, slowly pushing himself out of his chair once the lecture hall has started to empty out and hefting the strap of his messenger bag over his shoulder.

He walked over to where Arthur was still collecting his things and cleared his throat. Arthur stood up, and looked at him expectantly.

“So, er, I guess we can set up a google slides project or something to work on it? Here.” He scribbled his email down on a corner of his notebook paper, tearing it off and handing it to Arthur.

Arthur looked at it. “Emrys?” He said, disbelievingly.

“It’s Welsh for Ambrose. Why, what’s yours, his most esteemed highness at Buckingham dot gov?”

“Of course not,” Arthur snorted, tucking the corner of paper into his pocket.

“What is it then?”

Arthur paused for a split second. “None of your business,” he said quickly.

“Well, it kind of is,” Merlin pointed out, “if we’ll be working on this project together.”

“Shut up, Merlin.”

“You don’t have one, do you?” When Arthur didn’t answer, Merlin’s face split into a broad grin. “Oh my god, you really don’t! This is amazing.”

“I— can make one.” Arthur said stiffly.

Merlin was still smiling. “Do you think you can manage that? Will you need help?”

Arthur gave him a scathing look. “I think I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure? It can be _very_ daunting for someone not used to the scary world of the internet.”

Arthur clenched his jaw. “I’ve got it. Thanks.”

“Alright…” Merlin raised his eyebrows, “If you say so…”

“For your information,” Arthur said, his tone biting, “I’ve been able to ride, fence, and shoot a bow since I was seven years old. I _think_ I can manage setting up an email account.”

“Yeah,” Merlin nodded, mock serious. “Yeah, you sound _really_ qualified. You’ve definitely got this.”

Arthur scowled at him and started to leave.

“Send me a letter if something goes wrong, alright?” Merlin called after him.

* * *

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” Lance said as he approached the table in the dining hall where Merlin and Gwen were already sitting. “Class ran long.”

“That’s alright, Gwaine’s not here yet either,” Gwen told him, smiling. “Here, Merlin, move down a bit.”

Merlin obediently slid his bag off the seat next to him and started to scoot his chair closer to the end of the table, but froze when he saw who was standing next to Lance.

“And, uh, this is Arthur,” Lance added, smiling. “Though you probably know that. We’re in the same stats class. I hope it’s alright I invited him, Merlin said I could bring a friend…”

“Of course,” Gwen said quickly, covering up her surprise well. “Please, sit down.”

“Thank you.” Arthur smiled at her, taking the seat next to Merlin while Lance pulled one over from a neighbouring table.

“Finally taking the stick out of your arse long enough to make friends, then?” Merlin asked cheerily, turning to Arthur.

“Merlin!” Gwen admonished him, looking shocked.

“No, it’s fine,” Arthur told her. “Merlin,” he nodded in greeting, “I see you’ve gotten better at managing a knife and fork.”

Merlin frowned. Towards the end of the last term he’d skipped lunch to study and forgotten a fork for his salad, so he wound up eating it with a spoon during Professor Kilgharrah’s class. Arthur smirked.

“Yeah, turns out it’s pretty simple. Is not having five of each confusing you? Do you need lessons?”

“Um, maybe Arthur and I should find another table…” Lance said.

“Yeah.” Arthur said, looking at Merlin. “Maybe that would be a good idea.”

“No, stay!” Gwen insisted. “Merlin doesn’t mean it, right Merlin?”

“Of course not,” Merlin said lightly. “I love it when people think they’re better than everyone else, it really makes me want to be their friend.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Right. Because you’ve always been the _model_ of respect and courtesy.”

“Yeah, that’s the thing,” Merlin said, grinning. “When I respect someone it’s not just because they were born with a fancy title and act like it means they’re owed special treatment.”

Gwaine arrived then, carrying a plate piled with food. He dragged a chair over, swinging it around so he was sitting in it backwards as he plopped his plate down in front of him.

“Hey,” Gwaine nodded at Arthur, extending his arm across the table. “Gwaine Orkney.”

“Nice to meet you.” Arthur said, shaking the offered hand.

Still shaking Arthur’s hand, Gwaine turned to the others and asked, “So are we friends with the Prince of Wales now?”

* * *

Will was sprawled out on Merlin’s couch, eating popcorn and ignoring Merlin’s attempts to clean up.

“Hey, would you mind moving your duffle into my room until tomorrow?” Merlin asked, popping his head around the doorway from the kitchen.

“Why?” Will asked, even as he set down the bowl and started tossing stuff back into the bag in question.

“Er, a couple people are coming over to watch something,” Merlin answered from the kitchen. “You can watch too if you want.”

Will grunted as he picked up the duffle bag and headed down the hall. “What’re you watching?” he called over his shoulder.

Merlin came out of the kitchen and started picking up stuff from the coffee table and moving it to the wobbly IKEA shelf in the corner. “We haven’t decided yet,” he called back. “Probably just something off Netflix.”

Will came back into the room, kicking a sock he’d missed under the couch as he sat back down. “Alright. Who is it that’s coming, then?”

“Just some friends from school.” Merlin told him, sitting down on the other end of the couch. “They should be here soon.”

Sure enough, Will had barely picked up the popcorn bowl again when the buzzer rang and Merlin jumped up to get the door. He showed Gwaine, Lance, and Gwen inside. Arthur said something to Leon, who nodded, before following the others inside and shutting the door behind him.

“Where should we put our coats?” Gwen asked.

“Er, just find a spot,” Merlin told her, waving at the row of hooks on the wall. He started to head to the kitchen to grab the snacks he’d gotten earlier. “Make yourselves comfortable,” he added over his shoulder.

“Hang on.”

Merlin stopped halfway to the kitchen and looked over at Will. “What?”

“What the fuck is he doing here?” Will asked, pointing accusingly at Arthur.

Lance followed Will’s finger with his eyes. “Uh, this is Arthur. Not that— Well, most people know who he is, don’t they? He’s in my stats class.”

“Yeah, that doesn’t explain why he’s in this flat, though, does it?”

Arthur frowned at him. “I was invited here.”

Will rounded on Merlin.“You’re friends with one of _them_?” he asked incredulously

“I’m sorry, ‘one of _them_?’” Arthur repeated, affronted. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Not talking to you, tyrant,” Will threw at him.

“Right, and who are you?”

“William Turner, who the fuck are you?”

Arthur frowned. Gwen and Lance were hovering just inside in the door, looking like they wanted to intervene. Gwaine had already slipped past them into the lounge and dropped into a chair, grinning in amusement at the exchange.

Arthur turned to Merlin. “Merlin, who is this?”

“Er, that’s Will.”

“Yes, I’d gathered that much, thanks.”

“Why are you answering his questions, I asked about him first!” Will said indignantly.

“Look, should I go?” Arthur asked.

“Yeah, that would be great, actually,” Will quipped.

“No!” said Merlin hurriedly. “Look, Will, he’s alright, even if he can be a bit of a prat.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Thank you Merlin, ringing endorsement as ever.”

“I said you were alright.”

“You also said I was a prat!”

“You called me a clumsy oaf two days ago, what’s the difference?”

“I said that in a specific context—”

Merlin snorted. “Right, when you were backing out of facing me in a duel.”

“Waving sticks about in a park is not a _duel_ , Merlin.”

“See, I’m just hearing more excuses.”

“You had no idea what you were doing, someone would have gotten hurt.”

“Yeah, you.”

“Is that a threat? Do I need to get Leon to come in?”

“Yeah, alright, he’d be more fun to watch the film with anyway.”

Will looked skeptically between Arthur and Merlin, then to the others. Lance gave him a helpless little shrug and Gwen smiled weakly.

“They’re always like this.” Gwaine sighed. “I either tune it out after a couple of minutes or start taking bets.”

Will looked back to Merlin. “Alright, if you don’t make me listen to any more of that, then he can stick around.”

“Wonderful.” Arthur said, flashing Will a tight smile as he took the remaining chair.

Gwen sat on the couch and Lance found a spot onto the floor, holding a throw pillow. Merlin got the snacks from the kitchen, and got to work connecting his laptop to the TV monitor so they could pull up Netflix. As he finished and settled back onto the floor, leaning against the side of Gwaine’s chair, Will leaned forward on the couch, smiling broadly at Arthur.

“So, Arthur, how does it feel to know you’re costing the country millions of pounds each year for no reason?”

* * *

“There you are.” The sound of Merlin’s voice made Arthur turn around. “Good. Now I can tell Gwen you haven’t left.”

“Of course not.” Arthur moved his head back, frowning. “I would have said goodbye if I had.”

Neither of them said anything. Arthur went back to looking around the flat at the various clumps of people. Lance was going back to France the next day and people from nearly all of his classes had turned up to see him off.

Merlin cleared his throat, leaning a little closer to him. “You know, normally at parties you talk to people.”

“I was talking to Lance earlier. And I’m pretty sure I’m supposed to have a drinking contest with Gwaine in a bit.”

“Oh god, don’t do that,” Merlin told him. “You’ll kill yourself.”

“Hm. Good to know you don’t actually want me dead.” Arthur gave him a small smile.

Merlin sucked in a breath. “Ehhh… If you die then we’ve got to deal with having a body around and no one wants that. Besides, Leon and Bedivere’ll probably get fired…”

Arthur laughed. “Right, of course.” He looked down at the drink he was holding. “I, uh, don't suppose you’ll have to worry much about that next year.”

“What do you mean?” Merlin frowned at him.

“Well just,” Arthur gestured with the arm hold his cup. “with Lance going home…”

“Oh.” Merlin looked down, shifting his feet awkwardly. “You can still hang out with us, you know. You don’t have to stop just because Lance isn’t around.”

Arthur looked surprised. “Oh. I… Just thought— Well, you’re Lance’s friends…”

Merlin shook his head. “You may be a prince but you’re also a dollophead. We’re not just putting up with you because of Lance.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Arthur asked with a bemused laugh.

“We’re not just putting up with you because of Lance? Well, Will might be, but you’re growing on him.”

“No, the bit before that.” Arthur frowned. “You called me something.”

“Dollophead?” Merlin asked, raising his eyebrows.

“What on _Earth_ is a dollophead?”

Merlin made a soft click with his tongue. “I thought that was pretty self explanatory.”

“Well, it’s not,” Arthur said. “At all. You do know insults only work when the person being insulted understands what you’re saying.”

“Ah,” Merlin smiled, pointing at him, “but you still realized it was and insult.”

“A _bad_ one. I get the vague sense that I should be offended, but I don’t understand why.”

“You see?” Merlin’s smile widened. “It’s working. You’re insulted, and you’re questioning your intelligence. Two birds, one stone.” He stood up. “I’m gonna get some more punch, can I get you anything?”

“You know, I’m not actually sure I want to be your friend after all.”

Merlin laughed. “Sure you don’t. Am I getting you punch or not?”

* * *

“Well,” Arthur announced, setting down his pint glass with a satisfied sigh, “That was easily the worst we’ve ever done.”

“Oi! If you don’t like being on this team, there’s the door.” Gwaine pointed towards the pub’s exit.

Arthur held up his hands defensively. “I’m not trying to start anything.”

“You think this teams needs you? We don’t need you. The Quizzical Wizardcals were here before you and we’ll be here long after you’re gone.”

“We do need Leon though,” Gwen interjected, leaning forward. “He’s nearly as good as Lance was.”  
Arthur squeezed his eyes shut, bringing his fingers up to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Just… Every time. Every time I think I’m used to that name…”

“What name?” Merlin asked, turning sideways on the booth’s bench so he was facing him. “Quizzical Wizardcals?”

Arthur winced again. “Yup. That’s the one.”

Merlin’s mouth quirked, his grin growing. “I don’t see what’s wrong with Quizzical Wizardcals. Will?”

Will put down his beer. “Mate, I think Quizzical Wizardcals is an absolutely great name, always have. Gwen?”

Gwen composed her face into a solemn expression. “I’m _very_ proud to be a Quizzical Wizardcal.”

“It’s just so bad!” Arthur exploded. “Can we please change it?”

“Ehnnn…” Merlin screwed up his face, bobbing his head side to side. “The thing is, only founding members have the authority to change the name, so…”

“We could take a vote,” Gwaine offered. “Any founders in favour? Merlin? Gwen?” He looked at between them, neither moved. “Sorry, mate. The name stands.”

“Gwen?” Arthur asked weakly.

She shook her head. “I’m sorry Arthur,” she said, fighting down a smile. “But it’s out of my hands. Maybe if you bring up the issue at the next meeting.”

“Leon, come on.” Arthur twisted around so he was speaking over Merlin’s head to where Leon was leaning against the wall beside the booth. “Back me up.”

“With all due respect, sire—” Leon started and the entire table burst out laughing.

“You’re all traitors,” Arthur grumbled.

Will laughed. “Oh no, he’s figured it out!”

Arthur groaned. “I can’t deal with this. I’m doing it. I’m going to run off into the woods and you’ll never see me again.”

Merlin grinned at him, patting him on the back. “Just leave Leon behind. Gwen was right, we need him for the quiz.”

“You…” Arthur pointed at Merlin.

“Yes?”

“You are…” Arthur tried again, squinting at him. “You are _very_ …”

Merlin raised his eyebrows. “I’m what?”

Arthur opened his mouth and closed it, his finger wavering. Merlin stuck out his tongue and licked it.

“Augh! What the—” Arthur jerked his hand away. “Merlin! That’s _disgusting_.”

Gwen, Will and Gwaine were all laughing. Arthur wiped his hand on his jeans, gaping at Merlin.

“You were asking for it,” Merlin told him, lifting his glass with a shrug.

“I’ll show you asking for it…” Arthur grabbed Merlin in a headlock, holding him firmly against his side.

“Hey!”

Merlin flailed, grabbing at Arthur’s hands, trying to free himself. After a brief scuffle and only a little kicking, Merlin managed to twist out of his grasp, still holding onto Arthur’s wrists.

“You,” he said triumphantly, “are a prat. And a clotpole. And we’re keeping Quizzical Wizardcals forever, fuck you.”

Arthur just smirked, leaning his head over to where Merlin held his wrist and licking his knuckles. Merlin dropped both Arthur’s hands with a shout.

“You prick!” Merlin laughed.

Arthur imitated Merlin’s shrug, smiling. “Turnabout’s fair play.” He batted away Merlin’s hand as he tried to wipe his knuckles on Arthur’s shirt.

Merlin shook his head, still smiling. “You’re the worst.”

“I swear to god…” Will muttered into his beer. Setting it down he looked straight at Merlin and added, “If you date the prince you’re going to owe me _so_ many drinks.”

* * *

It snowed the last day before the Christmas holidays. Until then the weather had been a mix of drizzly sleet and cold frosts that never _quite_ managed to lead to actual snow. But, as Merlin stepped out of Gwen’s flat after her end of term party, he saw that large and wet flakes were falling and the ground was carpeted in a few inches of damp snow.

“It’s snowing,” Arthur said, standing in the doorway behind Merlin and looking up at the dark sky.

“Is it? I hadn’t noticed,” Merlin said, smiling at Arthur as he zipped up his coat and wrapping his coat around him.

“Ah, the lowest form of humour.” Arthur said drily. “You’re better than that, Merlin.”

“Sorry, I’ll be sure to do a better job insulting you next time.”

“Oi, Merlin!” Will called from a few steps down the street where he was standing with Gwaine. “Hurry up, I’m getting wet!”

“You go on,” Merlin called back, “I’ll meet you at home.”

Will rolled his eyes, muttering something as he waved to Gwaine and set off toward he and Merlin’s flat. Gwaine waved back nodded at Merlin and Arthur as he headed towards on his way home.

Merlin looked at Arthur. “Wanna go for a walk?”

“Sure.”

They walked, by some silent mutual agreement, towards the park at the end of Gwen’s street. As they stepped off the sidewalk and onto the undisturbed snow of the park, Merlin hung back, scooping up a handful of snow.

“Hey, Arthur.”

“Yes?” Arthur turned around and Merlin threw his snowball right at his face. He stumbled backwards, wiping off the snow and looking at Merlin with disbelief. “Why you…”

Bending down, Arthur started scooping up his own handful of snow, and Merlin ducked as he threw it, grinning, and started running further into the park. Arthur took off after him, making a new snowball as he did. They ran through the park in a messy, winding path, stumbling through the thin, wet snow. Arthur missed more often than not, the couple snowballs that managed to hit Merlin’s back glanced off his jacket without much affect. Periodically, Merlin would twist around to send snowballs back, watching them fall apart or fly wide of the mark.

Finally, Arthur caught up with Merlin, trying to shove a handful of snow down his collar. Merlin twisted, swatting at his hands. They stumbled, falling to the ground and breaking apart. They stayed there on their backs, both catching their breath and looking up at the stars. It had stopped snowing. The sky was clear, and the cold air was crisp. The thin layer of snow around them gleamed under lamps that lined in the park’s path, reflecting the light as it glanced off the millions of shining flakes. Merlin and Arthur’s breath came out in clouds that hung over them for a moment before mingling together and dissolving into the air.

When he’d caught his breath, Arthur turned his head to look at Merlin. “I think I won.”

Merlin turned to look back, beaming, his face partially obscured by the side of his head. “You wish.”

Arthur held his gaze for a moment, smiling too, before turning to look at the sky again. The night was still and quiet, the sounds coming from the occasional distant sound of a car on a street somewhere.

“You don’t see this many stars in London,” Arthur said. “There’s too much light.”

Merlin hummed in acknowledgment. “You can see more than this in Ealdor. Especially if you go out past the town, into the fields…”

“Sounds nice.”

“It is.”

Merlin looked at Arthur again. They were only a few inches apart. The front of Arthur’s hair was damp, sticking out from under his hat, and Merlin could see half-melted bits of snow sticking to it. Arthur felt his gaze and looked back, his eyes scanning Merlin’s face where it was nestled in his hood, his cheeks were flushed and a faint smile lingered on his lips.

Arthur swallowed and looked away. “It’s getting late.”

“Yeah.” Merlin struggled to push himself up on his elbows. “Um. I should probably get home. Will and I are leaving pretty early tomorrow.”

“Yeah.” Arthur stood up, brushing himself off. “I’ll, uh, I’ll see you after the holidays, then?”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course.” Merlin nodded. He took the hand Arthur offered and pulled himself to his feet. They stood awkwardly, not saying anything. Merlin cleared his throat. “You should probably get back before Leon thinks I’ve kidnapped you.”

Arthur glanced over his shoulder towards the street and the black van that had followed them from Gwen’s. “Right. Er… Have a good Christmas.”

“Yeah,” Merlin smiled, “you too. Have fun at the… Sandringham place thingy?”

Arthur laughed. “The Sandringham Estate.”

“Right. I knew that.”

“Of course you did.”

Merlin rolled his eyes, turning towards the end of the park in the direction of his flat. “Shut up and go find Leon.”

Arthur shook his head, smiling, and went to walk towards the car. “Enjoy Ealdor!”

“Thanks!” Merlin waved over his shoulder. “See you in January!”

* * *

The day was uncharacteristically bright for mid-March. It was still cold, and the last dregs of winter were still clinging to Camelot with a stubborn insistence, but it was nice enough that Merlin sent a message to the groupchat suggesting that everyone meet in a park a little ways from downtown for a break from the end of term workload. Only Arthur showed up, despite the others all expressing interest. They walked along the path together, following it uphill and occasionally checking their phones for any sign that their friends would be joining them. Leon stayed a few metres behind them, unobtrusively keeping watch. When they reached a part where the path ran along a low wall, overlooking a view of the city, Arthur and Merlin stopped. They sat on top of the wall, facing the park with their backs to the view.

“I don’t think anyone else is coming,” Merlin said, putting his phone away after his fifth consecutive message to the groupchat went unanswered. “Looks like it’s just us.”

“It would seem so,” Arthur looked out of over the mostly empty park. Bits of green were just starting to show in the yellowy-brown grass. He sighed. “You know I wouldn’t be surprised if they did this on purpose.”

Merlin looked at him, head to one side. “What makes you say that?”

“Come on, you must’ve noticed the way they’ve been around us lately.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Arthur scoffed, throwing Merlin a disbelieving look. “Yes you do, Merlin, don’t pretend.”

“Alright, fine, they’ve been terrible, I don’t even know what they’re expecting to accomplish.”

“Exactly, it’s ridiculous.”

Their eyes met, latching onto each other and not letting go. After a long moment, Merlin swallowed and looked away. Arthur sighed.

“We should do something about this,” he announced.

“This?”

“You know,” Arthur gestured between them with one hand, “this. Us.”

“What about us?”

“Come on Merlin, don’t be dense. You can’t deny that there’s _something_ …” Arthur trailed off, making a circular motion with his head.

“Something…?”

“Significant. Between us.”

“I don’t know, for me to confirm or deny anything you’re going to have to be a lot more specific about what you mean.”

Arthur swatted lightly at Merlin’s head, barely ruffling his hair. “You know what I mean, Merlin, you’re not actually that dense.”

Merlin met Arthur’s eyes, the beginnings of a smile starting to creep onto his face. “What are you asking me, exactly?”

“Oh for god’s sake, what do you _think_ I’m asking?”

“How should I know, you haven’t said it. I know what I think you’re asking, but how can I know that I’m right if you don’t actually come out and say it? Hm? How do I know you’re not talking about something completely innocuous and I’ve misinterpreted into something totally different? What if—”

“Oh shut up, Merlin,” Arthur said, rolling his eyes, but smiling.

Merlin beamed. “Whatever you say, sire.”

Arthur’s smile faded and he looked down at the path. “Don’t do that, I’m serious.”

“So am I.” Merlin said, more softly and without the joking edge. “If you want me to say yes you’re going to have to actually say what you want.”

“Hmph.” Arthur considered that, crossing his arms. “You could always ask me, you know. It’s not as if we’re beholden to gender roles, and even if we were they’d be antiquated.”

“But you’ve already started. If I were to ask you in the middle of you asking me it would be a little rude.”

“Well, how do you even know we’re going to ask the same thing?” Arthur asked. “Perhaps you should ask what you were going to say regardless.”

Merlin smiled. “I’m pretty sure you’re being a coward right now.”

“A coward!” Arthur lifted his eyebrows. “Is that what you’d really think of me?”

Merlin tilted his head to the side, looking Arthur up and down. “I’d say it’s a pretty fair assessment, yeah. And frankly,” he added, still smiling, “I’m not really sure I even want to go out with someone too scared to ask me on a date.”

“A date… That’s _very_ presumptuous of you Merlin. I don’t think anyone’s mentioned a date yet.” Arthur pushed himself off the wall, smiling now too.

“Uhhh, I’m pretty sure I did?” Merlin countered, his grin growing as he slid down to stand on the path, facing Arthur. “Just now. So I guess things are on you as to what you’re going to do about it.”

“Hm, are they now.”

“Yeah, I think so.”

Merlin met Arthur’s gaze and took half a step forward. They were standing close together now, if either of them moved they’d be touching.

Merlin swallowed. “Or, you know, you could just admit that I’m braver that you, you know the actual prince of an entire country who constantly talks about polo or fencing or whatever other ridiculous posh hobbies—”

“Merlin,” Arthur interrupted, a smile was tugging at one corner of his mouth. One of his hands was resting on the wall, the other hovered by Merlin’s elbow, not quite touching him.

“Yes?” Merlin grinned, twisting Arthur’s shirt in his fingers and tugging him closer.

Arthur tilted his head to one side, leaning in. “Shut up.”

* * *

“Right. Good talking to you, see you tomorrow.” Arthur waved goodbye and finally pulled himself away from the conversation. Merlin was waiting a little ways down from the doorway to the lecture hall, watching him.

“Hey, how was class?”

Merlin stood up. “Uh, fine, we talked about Petrarch and fourteenth century poetry,” he answered distractedly, still looking at the doorway Arthur had just come from. “What was that about?”

Arthur glanced over his shoulder, following Merlin’s eyes. “Oh, er, Cedric just had some questions about a paper.”

Cedric noticed them looking and gave them a small nod. Arthur raised his hand briefly and Merlin nodded back with a smile that looked more like a grimace. Cedric started walking away and Arthur turned back to Merlin.

He noticed Merlin’s face and frowned. “Wait. Are you _jealous_?”

“No,” Merlin tore his eyes away from the Cedric’s retreating back. “Of course not.”

“You are,” Arthur said, smiling.

“I’m not!” Merlin insisted.

Arthur moved forward, steering Merlin towards the wall. “Come on, admit it…”

Merlin rolled his eyes and Arthur leaned in to his him. Merlin kissed him back, his hands finding Arthur’s hips. After a moment, Merlin pulled back, looking at Arthur.

“He’s creepy,” he said bluntly. “I don’t trust him.”

Arthur laughed. “Noted.”

He leaned in again, and Merlin met him halfway. He brought one of his hands up to Arthur’s shoulder and used the hand still on Arthur’s hip to tug him closer. Arthur obliged, smiling against Merlin’s lips before moving down to kiss his neck.

“Arthur, there you are.”

Arthur jumped, stepping away from Merlin hurriedly as he spun to face the voice.

“Morgana.” He coughed, a steady redness creeping up his neck. “We were just, uh…” he looked at Merlin. “That is—”

“Oh please, don’t let me interrupt.” Morgana smirked. “I’m perfectly capable of averting my eyes and making polite conversation with Leon until you’ve finished snogging in a public corridor.” She turned to the security guard in question. “Work alright?”

Leon looked up from his paperback and shrugged. “Can’t complain.”

“What are you even doing here?” Arthur asked her.

Morgana gave him an offended look. “Manners, Arthur. Aren’t you going to introduce me?”

Arthur sighed. “Morgana, this is Merlin. Merlin, Lady Morgana LeFay, my father’s ward.”

“Hi,” Merlin smiled awkwardly.

“Charmed.” Morgana shook his hand.

“Merlin and I are dating,” Arthur added tersely.

Morgana raised an eyebrow. “Oh?” She looked Merlin over. “Well, that’s good to know. I won’t have to cover up any ill-advised one-night stands.”

Arthur snorted. “ _No_ ,” he said with emphasis, “you won’t.”

“Er, sorry?” Merlin asked.

Morgana smiled at him. “What darling Arthur has forgotten to mention in my introduction is that I’m also his PR manager. And,” she added, turning to Arthur, “that he clearly hasn’t been checking his phone, because then he’d know that we had a lunch meeting today.”

“Yeah well, nothing new there,” Merlin grinned.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Arthur asked indignantly.

“Just that you always forget when you’ve left it on silent and forget to check it.”

“I do _not_ do that.”

“You really do,” Merlin told him, pulling out his phone. “I can prove it right now if you want.”

Morgana laughed. “Oh, I like him.”

Arthur scowled. “You don’t get an opinion.”

Morgana just smirked at him.

“You don’t!”

Morgana ignored him. Glancing down at her watch, she said, “Well, why don’t I let the two of you finish up here and then you can meet me outside and we’ll go for lunch. Leon? Don’t let him try to get out of it, alright?” She flashed Merlin a smile. “ _Lovely_ to meet you Merlin.”

And with an elegant wave she was off, her heels clicking away down the sidewalk or hallway or floor wherever they are.

Merlin looked at Arthur. “So… that’s Morgana?”

“Yes,” Arthur frowned after her, arms crossed, “that’s Morgana.”

“I like her.” Merlin grinned.

Arthur turned to him, mouth open. “Don’t you _dare_.”

* * *

They’d been walking for hours, following a poorly maintained path through the increasingly dimly lit woods. Or rather, Arthur was following the path and Merlin was following Arthur, who claimed to know exactly where he was going.

“You’re going to get us in trouble,” Merlin told the rucksack obscuring most of Arthur’s back. “For one thing, Leon doesn’t know we’re here. For another,” he ducked under a low branch, “I’m pretty sure we’re not supposed to leave the city without at least letting someone else on the team know.”

“Don’t be such a worrywart, Merlin. We’ve got the day off tomorrow, and even if we didn’t, we’re _volunteers_. They can’t fire us for not showing up.”

“Right,” Merlin rolled his eyes. “And what if we get lost? Because last I checked neither of us speak Romanian.”

“We won’t get lost,” Arthur told him, stopping in the middle of the path and turning around. “One, we both have phones…”

“You have a phone. I have a very nice hunk of silicon and metal that’ll cost me a fortune if I use it as anything other than a flashlight.”

“Two,” Arthur continued, ignoring him, “I have a map _and_ a GPS. Three, I went over our route before we left, it’ll be fine.” He turned back around and started walking again.

“We’re supposed to be building and repairing houses!” Merlin shouted at his back. “Not traipsing about in the woods.”

“It’s a romantic getaway Merlin! Stop whinging, you’ll ruin the mood.”

“I can’t believe I actually agreed to follow you out here.”

“Do you mean Romania, or the woods?”

“Both.”

Finally, they did reach the clearing they’d been hoping to find. There was a soft wind blowing, and the light from the setting sun cut through the trees, making long shadows on the leaf-covered ground. Merlin dropped his pack heavily and collapsed on top of it, slumped forward with his legs splayed out in front of him. Arthur took off his backpack more slowly, taking in their surroundings.

“See, this isn’t so bad, is it?”

“I’ve got… three new bug bites,” Merlin told him, counting. “And I know for a fact that you can’t work the camp stove.”

“No,” Arthur said, unperturbed. “But I can set up a tent. He bent down, pulling out the folded canvas from his pack and tossing the bag to Merlin. “Why don’t you get started on dinner.”

Merlin caught the bag clumsily, and got to work setting up the camp stove. It took several tries to start (Arthur had gotten it from one of the local volunteers who told them it hadn’t been used in years), but once it did it was easy enough to heat up some water and add two packages of instant ramen. They sat next to each other on a fallen tree to eat.

“I don’t know how you eat this constantly,” Arthur told Merlin. “I mean, it’s not bad, but surely it gets old pretty quickly.”

Merlin shrugged. “Not really. You just have to get creative with seasoning.”

“Hmph.” Arthur looked at his ramen skeptically, but kept eating.

When they were done eating, Merlin packed up their dishes and the camp stove and walked over to where Arthur had spread out his sleeping bag and was lying on his back, looking at the sky.

He looked down at Arthur. “I thought the point of the tent was to put the sleeping bags inside it.”

Arthur shushed him, reaching up for his hand. “Come here.”

Merlin grabbed his own sleeping bag and obliged, lying on his back next to Arthur. They looked at the sky for a while as the light slowly left it and one or two bright stars faded into view.

“This is actually nice,” Merlin admitted.

“I told you,” Arthur smirked, shoving Merlin’s shoulder. “I’ve always liked how quiet it is,” he added. “Once you get out of the city and away from traffic.”

Merlin rolled over onto his side to look at Arthur. “Fantasizing about running away again?”

Arthur hummed in agreement.

Merlin rolled back onto his back, smiling. “Too bad you can’t cook,” he sighed. “Or work a washing machine. Or fold sheets once they’re clean.”

“Hey, I made scrambled eggs the other day! And no one can fold a fitted sheet, it’s impossible.”

“I can fold one just fine!”

“Lies. Sorcery.”

Merlin laughed.

“Anyway, that’s what you’re for,” Arthur continued.

“You keep telling me you’re intelligent,” Merlin grinned at him, “why you can’t figure it out on your own?”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Obviously I _could_ , but I don’t need to if you’re there, do I?”

“Hm…” Merlin hummed, considering. “Well, I’m not running away with you in Romania. It’s got to be somewhere I can understand what people are saying.”

“Well, obviously we’d pick somewhere in Britain. Or maybe Canada, depending on how hard my father’s looking for me.”  
Merlin laughed. “Canada’s too cold.”

“Well, we’re not leaving the commonwealth,” Arthur told him. “And Australia’s too full of animals waiting to murder you.”

Merlin laughed again, rolling over and tucking himself into Arthur. “We’ll figure something out.”

They both slept poorly in the tent and it rained during their walk back to where Arthur had parked. None of their clothes were waterproof and they got soaked through, dripping onto the leather interior of the van Arthur had taken from his security team. Merlin complained loudly and Arthur grumbled about unreliable weather forecasts, but neither really minded. The good parts made the downsides seem worth it.

* * *

“I don’t know, I think I liked it better with the head against the other wall,” Merlin mused, looking at the bed he and Arthur had just managed to wrangle into place in his new room.

“Yes, well, if you have it this was you’ve got room on both sides,” Arthur pointed out.

“Well, I could put it back against that wall and centre it more,” Merlin said, gesturing. “I’m just not sure how it’s going to be for light where it is now.”

“Just put up curtains if you’re worried about it.”

“Maybe.” Merlin looked at the bed, considering. “Come on, let’s try it against that wall again.”

Together, they moved the bed back to its previous position.

“No, this is no good,” Arthur decided, surveying their work. “If it’s like this I have to walk all the way around it to get to my side.”

“How often do you expect to be sleeping over?”

“I’m not sure if you noticed, but we spent nearly the entire summer together Merlin, most of it sharing a bed.”

“Fine,” Merlin conceded. “Let’s try it against the other wall again.”

They turned the bed ninety degrees and positioned it so that the foot was facing the door and the head was against the middle of the room’s back wall. Arthur flopped down on the side closest to him.

“There,” he sighed contentedly.

Merlin chuckled. “You know, maybe I should get a new nightstand.”

Arthur half sat up, frowning. “What’s wrong with the one you’ve got?”

“Nothing, I just meant, so that you’d have one too.”

Arthur let himself fall back on the bed again, waved his hand. “Don’t worry about it. I won’t be here _that_ much. I’ll probably have to be going London more often this year anyway.”

“Oh. Okay then.”

Merlin walked out into the hall, picking up his bag of clothes and bringing it into the bedroom. Arthur was still splayed out on the bed when he reentered, looking at his phone and frowning slightly. Merlin dropped the bag down heavily and put his hands on his hips, surveying the room.

“You know what,” he said suddenly, “I think it’s actually better against the other wall, I’ll be able to get at the closet better.”

“What?” Arthur looked at him, blinking slowly.

Merlin nodded again, decisively and striding to the side of the bed. “Yeah. I’m gonna move it back.” He jerked his head at Arthur. “Come on.”

“Merlin…” Arthur said, watching him tug the bed towards him, “we’ve moved this between the two places at least half a dozen times.”

“Yeah, well,” Merlin straightened up, “I want it in the other place. Let’s go.” He bent over again, taking hold of the bed frame.

Arthur sighed, walking to his side of the bed and bending over reluctantly. As he started shoving, the door opened and Will poked his head in.

“Hey,” he jerked his chin at Merlin, “is the prat coming for lunch? Hunith wants to go soon so that she’s not driving when it’s dark.”

Merlin glanced at Arthur. “Oh, no, it’s just us. We can get going, just let me grab my coat.”

Will nodded, disappearing from the doorway.

“I didn’t know you were getting lunch,” Arthur said, straightening up. The bed was on an angle, the head in the corner so that it jutted out on a diagonal into the room.

“Er, yeah,” Merlin said, brushing off his hands and looking around the room. “Don’t worry, you don’t have to come.”

“It’s not _have to_.” Arthur frowned, following Merlin down the hall to the from door.

Merlin shrugged into a dark red jacket, taking his keys out of his pocket. “Really, Arthur, it’s fine. I’ll see you later, alright?”

“Alright.” Arthur stepped out of the flat so Merlin could lock up, then followed him down the stairs. When they were by the front door Arthur said, “Do you want to watch a film or something tonight?”

“Maybe.” Merlin reached out to take Arthur’s hand, squeezing it briefly. “I’ll text you when we’re done lunch, yeah?”

Arthur smiled back, tightly. “Alright. Talk to you then. Love you.”

“Yeah. You too.” Merlin leaned in and gave Arthur quick kiss before hurrying off to join Hunith and Will.

* * *

Arthur was still in bed. Merlin stood in the doorway, coffee in one hand, surveying the tangled mess of blankets largely obscuring his boyfriend.

“Arthur?”

When he didn’t get an answer, Merlin sighed and came over to the side of the bed. He’d never gotten around to moving it out of its diagonal position.

“Hey. Dollophead.” Merlin poked at the blankets about where Arthur’s shoulder should be.

“Mmmph”

“You told me to get you up at ten.”

“Whatimizit?”

Merlin rolled his eyes. Setting his mug down on the bedside table, he yanked back the blankets. “Half past ten. Come on.”

Arthur flailed out with one arm, snatching at the air to try and retrieve the blankets. Merlin batted his arms away from them, trying to grab onto Arthur well enough pull him to his feet as he did. As soon as his hand closed around Arthur’s wrist, Arthur twisted, pulling Merlin down on top of him and enveloping him in a tight embrace.

“ _Arthur_ ,” Merlin huffed.

“Mmm.” Arthur rolled them over onto their sides, nuzzling into Merlin’s neck.

Arthur pulled him closer and Merlin rolled his eyes. “Alright, two minutes, then I’ve got to get up. And so should you.”

“Good.” Arthur pulled Merlin a little closer to him.

They both lay there in the bright, lazy warmth coming in through Merlin’s window. Eventually, Merlin gently nudged Arthur in the ribs.

“Alright, times up.”

Arthur sighed, loosening his grip on Merlin. “Fine…” He reached out towards the bedside table, fumbling around on the surface.

Merlin stretched, pushing back the blankets further and rolling away from Arthur. Arthur’s hand connected with his phone and he pulled it toward him, flopping over onto his back. He froze, staring at his phone screen. He swore under his breath.

Merlin looked over at him. “What?”

“I had it on silent overnight, I’ve missed five calls, shit…” Arthur jumped off the bed, tapping something on the screen and bringing the phone up to his ear as he did. “I’ve got to call him back, sorry,” he told Merlin, barely looking at him.

Merlin started to get up, opening his mouth to answer. Before he could say anything, Arthur was out of the bedroom, the door swinging shut behind him. Merlin waited for what felt like a long time, listening to the creaking floorboards as Arthur paced in the hall and the occasional sound of his short responses.

Arthur reentered the room a few minutes later with his face was set in a determined expression and a muscle twitching in his jaw. He closed the door behind him and took a deep breath in.

“My father knows about you.”

“What?”

“My father,” Arthur repeated, starting to pace, “knows about you, us— that we’re dating.”

Merlin frowned. “Wait, he didn’t— How did he find out? Leon and the others wouldn’t…”

Arthur shook his head. “No, Leon hasn’t said anything. It was Morgana.”

“Morgana?”

“That’s what he said.”

“I can’t believe it. That’s _awful_!”

Arthur didn’t say anything, he just kept pacing.

“So… What’s going to happen?” Merlin asked.

“Nothing for now,” Arthur answered. He unlocked his phone and started tapping something out. “He doesn’t even think we’re serious.”

Merlin inhaled, dropping his gaze to the bed. “Right.”

“And it’s not like he’d want us to go public,” Arthur continued. “But there’s still a chance that I’ll have to make a statement or deal with tabloids or something, the usual sort of thing. Just…” Arthur looked up from his phone, tucking into his back pocket. “Wait and see for now. I’ll keep you posted.”

* * *

“Arthur!”

“What?”

Merlin came out of the kitchen into the lounge. “Have you done the dishes recently?”

Arthur glanced up from his laptop. “Uh, a few days ago, I think, the last time I was here. Why?”

“Right, well, you can’t just leave cast iron pans in the dish rack, they get rusty.”

Arthur frowned. “How do you know that was me?”

“Because it certainly wasn’t me and Will knows how to take care of cast iron.”

“Oh, sorry.”

Merlin sighed. “It’s fine, just leave it to me next time, okay?” He disappeared back into the kitchen.

Arthur got off the couch and followed him. “Really, I’m sorry. If you tell me what to do instead I’ll do that in the future.”

“Right.” Merlin snorted, scrubbing at the pan with a scouring pad.

“Alright,” Arthur crossed his arms, “what’s going on? You’ve been acting stressed all day.”

“It’s nothing.”

“It is not _nothing_. Come on, Merlin, you have to actually _tell me_ when something bothers you.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Merlin looked up from the pan without turning around or stopping his scrubbing. “Maybe it’s that you act like a you deserve a medal whenever you take care of something like the dishes which is just a basic chore, which isn’t actually that impressive considering you’re here _all the time_ —”

“You always act weird about coming over to mine!”

“Maybe,” Merlin continued, ignoring Arthur’s interruption, the speed of his scrubbing increasing, “it’s that half the time you can’t even do those things _well_ —”

“I _just_ asked what I should be doing instead, I am trying!”

“Right,” Merlin turned around, still holding the scouring pad, “well sorry if it seems easier to redo all your attempts at help rather than waste time teaching you all these skills three times over just so you can throw it them out the window in a few months when you’re done treating living a normal life like it’s a fun vacation.”

Arthur blinked, taken aback. Merlin turned back around and started scrubbing the pan again.

“Merlin, I…”

Merlin just sighed, pausing for a moment. “Drop it, Arthur, okay?” He slowly resumed scrubbing again. “I’ve got a paper due in a week and Will’s manager didn’t book him for as many shifts as usual so I might need to cover some of his rent…” He sighed again. “Never mind. The point is, I’ve got too much going on right now to deal with this right now, okay?”

Arthur watched Merlin’s back for a long moment. Then he uncrossed his arms, stepping forward. “Here, let me.”

Merlin didn’t look at him. “It’s almost done, don’t worry about it.”

“I’ve been cleaning rapiers since I was a child, I think I can handle getting rust off of metal.”

Merlin laughed. “Only you would use fencing as a way of knowing what to do in the kitchen.” He stepped away from the sink, letting Arthur take his place.

“Yes, I’m incredibly impressive, now go work on your paper.”

“But—”

“I’ll let Will know I’m done,” Arthur told him. “He’ll do the.… well, whatever you do instead of putting it in the dish rack.”

Merlin shook his head, smiling. “Alright… If you insist.”

Arthur turned away from him, scrubbing at the rust. When Merlin didn’t move his twisted his head over his shoulder. “Go! I know you’ve probably gone down a million rabbit holes while researching and now you’re bound to be way behind.”

“Okay, I’m going,” Merlin said, slowly backing out of the kitchen.

“And I can cover some of Will’s rent if you need. Don’t,” he held up a hand to preempt Merlin’s protests, “say I shouldn’t. Like you said, I’m here all the time, it’s the least I can do.”

“Okay.” Merlin grinned. “Thanks, that would be great.” He turned to go get his laptop from his room. Setting himself up not he couch he called into he kitchen, “If you’re feeling helpful you could also vacuum later.”

“Don’t push your luck,” Arthur called back.

Merlin grinned. “Love you too, dollophead.”

* * *

Arthur had decided on a campsite nearly an hour’s drive from Camelot for their most recent overnight trip into the woods. Merlin had argued against it, mainly citing that it was getting too late in the year to be sleeping outside, but Arthur had agreed to let Merlin talk his ear off at as many museum exhibits he chose once they were free of midterms and Merlin had relented. They got to their campsite in the late afternoon. Arthur pulled out his phone, sending a quick text to Leon before putting it on silent and shoving it into his bag.

“Right. Merlin, start a fire and get the food together, I’ll set up the tent.”

Merlin laughed, “You want to try that again?”

Arthur looked up at him. “Please?”

“Yeah, no.” Merlin shook his head, “I will… get the firewood, and the tent will for sure take less time than that, so you can get the food ready.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow at him. “Anything you want to add to that?”

“Uhhh,” Merlin frowned, pretending to consider it, “no, I think I’m alright.”

“Merlin.”

“See you in a _minute_!”

They ate ramen— by now their established camping food— sitting across from each other on either side of the fire, not saying much. Merlin finished before Arthur and picked up a stick from the ground, staring into the fire as he poked at it absently. Arthur finished the last of his ramen and set his bowl aside.

“I had lunch with Gwen yesterday,” he said.

“Yeah?” Merlin looked up. “How was it?”

Arthur nodded. “Good. It was mostly to make up for her not being make an open lecture event we were going to go to at the library last week. I suggested we go to a restaurant but she didn’t want to for whatever reason.”

“Yeah, well, that wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that’s she’s been having to pick up some extra shifts, would it?” Merlin reminded him. “Or that she’s still in full time classes _and_ doing tutoring on the side?”

“Right.” Arthur nodded slowly. “I forgot about that.”

Merlin smiled. “It’s still nice that you were able to get together for a bit. I’ve only really seen anyone during study sessions.”

“You’ve been having study sessions with the others?” Arthur asked.

“Not really with Gwen or Gwaine much. Mostly it’s been with Freya and other people from my classes.”

Arthur nodded. “Right.”

Merlin looked down at the fire again. It was slowly burning down to embers and he poked it a bit to give it some more life. Arthur watched what he was doing, his eyes following the stick’s movements.

“We haven’t done this in a while.”

Merlin looked up. “It hasn’t been that long. We went to that Italian place.”

“That was over a month ago,” Arthur pointed out. “And the last time we had a camping overnight was two weeks before that.”

“There was the last pub quiz,” Merlin tried.

“I suppose,” Arthur shifted his seat. “But that was still a while ago and it’s not really the same.”

“Yeah…” Merlin sighed. He looked down again, this time at the hardened dirt under his feet. Arthur looked up at the sky, but the tree canopy was too dense and it was too early in the evening to see anything much more than just a few patches of grey-blue sky.

“I have to go to London next weekend,” Arthur said, still looking up. “There’s a fundraiser.”

Merlin gave a vague hum in acknowledgement. They were silence again. The only sounds came from the wind rustling the in the trees and the soft ambience of the forest. Arthur’s gaze drifted around their small campsite, landing eventually on the fire.

Merlin stood up abruptly. “I think I’m gonna turn in.”

“Merlin…” Arthur reached out, his fingers catching in the leather bracelet on Merlin’s wrist.

Merlin looked down at his hand and Arthur let go, slowly.

“It’s not even dark yet.” Arthur looked up at Merlin, his voice soft, pleading. “Come on. Here,” he shifted over on the section of tree trunk he was sitting on.

Merlin smiled slightly. “Alright.” He took a seat next to Arthur.

They sat side by side, both looking at the smouldering logs.

“You know, I would have given us at least another month,” Arthur said, “until we completely ran out of things to talk about. But then again, for all your chatter, you’ve never been a particularly strong conversationalist, so—”

Merlin kissed him. His mouth was soft and unexpected, and Arthur took a second to respond. The dying embers of the fire were almost completely gone. A chill had crept into the air and there was more warmth Arthur brought his hand up, cupping the side of Merlin’s face. Merlin was holding onto the collar of Arthur’s jacket, pulling him closer. After a long moment, they broke apart. Merlin leaned his forehead against Arthur’s.

“What was that for?” Arthur murmured.

Merlin shrugged, slowly pulling back and resting his head on Arthur’s shoulder. “You were right,” he said after a long pause, staring at where the fire had been. “It’s been a while since we’ve done this.”

* * *

“Merlin, have you seen—” Arthur looked up and stopped. “You moved the bed.”

Merlin, sitting on the bed in question, stopping typing and looked up from his laptop. Arthur was standing just inside the bedroom’s doorway. His fingers were still on the cuff of his shirt, partway through doing up the button and he was looking at the bed rather than Merlin. Instead of the diagonal position it had been in for months, it was positioned with headboard against the middle of the right-hand wall.

“Er, yeah.” Merlin looked back at his computer. “Last weekend.” He scanned his screen, slowly resuming typing. “Just thought I should actually get around to it, you know?”

“Right.”

Merlin kept typing for a moment. When Arthur didn’t say anything, he looked up again. “What were you going to ask?”

“Oh,” Arthur looked away from the bed. “Have you seen my blue jacket? The peacoat. I could have sworn I left it here but I can’t find it.”

“I haven’t, sorry.” Merlin went back to writing. “Why do you need it?”

“I’ve got to go up to London. Lord Bayard is visiting and there’s a fundraising banquet benefitting… It doesn’t matter.” Arthur looked back down at his cuff, fiddling with the button. “I’ll be back late on Sunday probably, unless my father decides I can afford to miss my Monday classes.”

Merlin shut his laptop and turned to look at Arthur properly. “Seriously? You’re always in London these days.”

“I think you’ll find I’m here at the moment,” Arthur answered drily. He crossed to Merlin’s closet at started looking through it. Over his shoulder he said, “And you could come with me if you wanted. Not this weekend, it’s too short notice, but next time.”

“I _think_ your father might get the impression that we’re serious if I turn up at Buckingham Palace.”

“Stay with Gaius,” Arthur told him, oblivious to the edge on Merlin’s tone.

“Yeah, for sure, I’ll throw away forty pounds on a train ticket to London and back so I can sit around in Gaius’s flat on the off chance you’ll be able to tear yourself away from faffing about with the rest of the peerage.”

“I don’t get there by train, Merlin, there’s plenty of space for you in the car.” He stopped rifling though the closet and put his hands on his hips, frowning at Merlin’s shirts and jackets. “I _swear_ it was here, are you sure you didn’t move it?”

“I didn’t do anything, ask Will when he gets home.”

Sighing, Arthur turned around. “Anyway, if you don’t want to come to London you don’t have to. You’re the one who was complaining about it, I thought I’d suggest a solution.”

“I wasn’t complaining! I was just pointing out—” Merlin stopped himself, letting out a slow breath. “Thanks for the offer, but I don’t think it’ll work out, yeah?” He flashed a smile at Arthur and pulled his laptop towards him again.

Arthur sat down on the end of the bed and let himself fall backwards. “I can’t believe I even have to be there. It’s not like I do anything, Father didn’t even say more than two words the last time I was there. I hardly think the country’s going to fall to bits if I’m not in a few pictures.”

“Mmhm.”

“Not to mention the food at these things is awful. It’s cooked to be impressive and show off, not to actually taste like something you’d want to put in your mouth. You know I actually had George order me some curry after the last one? I was starving.”

“Yep. Must suck.”

“It does, actually! If I have to be there every other week I should at least get some of Audrey’s genuinely good cooking out of it.” Arthur sighed. “Anyway,” he reached out for Merlin, his hand groping at the air in the vicinity of Merlin’s foot where it was folded under him. “I was thinking we could try and go see a film or something when I get back.”

“I can’t, I’ve got revising to do…” Merlin said, scrolling slowly up through the paper he was writing.

“What about after exams, then? When are you leaving for Ealdor?”

Merlin tucked his foot at little more under him. “Er… I’m not, actually.”

“What?” Arthur half sat up, twisting his neck to look at Merlin. “When was this decided?”

Merlin shrugged, not taking his eyes off his screen. “A month ago, more or less?”

“Are you kidding me?” Arthur raised his eyebrows, staring at Merlin. “A _month_?”

“Yeah, well, I got the research position with Finna— Professor Bendrui, I mean— so I’m gonna do some work for her over the break, and I’ve got some other stuff to work on…”

Arthur sat up properly, pushing himself off the bed. “For fuck’s sake, Merlin.”

“ _What?_ ” Merlin looked up from his laptop. “It’s not a big deal, Mum’s coming to see me for New Year’s.”

“It’s not—” Arthur raised his hands and let them fall again, exasperated. “You always do this, you have to actually _tell_ me things, Merlin.”

“It’s just a temporary research position—”

“That I didn’t even know you were applying for!”

“—And you’ll be in Scotland anyway, it’s not like you’d see me either way.”

“It’s not about that!” Arthur took a step back, running one hand over his face. He added with more control. “You do this all the time, you never tell me anything that’s going on with you anymore until after it’s happened. Or sometimes, not at all. I heard about you getting arrested at that climate protest from _Gwaine_ of all people.”

Merlin straightened up, surprised. “He told you about that?”

“He seemed to think I’d already _known_.” Arthur said, leaning crossed his arms, starting at Merlin accusingly.

Merlin shook his head disbelieving. “I can’t believe he _told_ you.”

“That’s hardly the point! If my boyfriend gets _arrested_ I should hear about it from him, not from someone else a month after the fact!”

“Well, _maybe_ you should actually listen when I tell you things, hm? Maybe, when I say that I’m off to a protest with Will and Gwaine you should bother looking it up later instead of assuming that everyone’s got enough bodyguards and motorcades to protect them everywhere they go. Or,” Merlin said, swinging his legs off the bed and standing up, “here’s an idea, you could come along and actually use the massive amount of privilege you’ve got for something important and stop us getting arrested in the first place!”

“That is not fair, you _never_ asked me—”

“Right, yeah,” Merlin said, more malice than usual creeping into his sarcasm, “since you listened the first hundred times I complained what I have to deal with.”

“What are you talking about?”

“‘Oh I’m going to a posh fundraiser it’s the _woooorst_ …’” Merlin mimicked. “‘Oh, Merlin, pick up everything and come to London for the weekend in case I get bored and want a shag…’”

“Hey, that is _not_ —”

“‘Oh, Merlin, I can’t believe I’m the richest prat in the country and I’ve got everything I could possibly want…’ You can’t spend all your time bitching about that stuff, ignoring the shit I’m dealing with, and then pretend you actually care to win an argument.”

Arthur froze, some of the tension diffusing from his shoulders. “Merlin. Of course I _care_.”

Merlin gave him an almost amused look, picking up his laptop and starting toward his bedroom door. “Sure.”

“Merlin.” Arthur walked around the bed, intercepting him at the door. “This is exactly what I’m talking about. You can’t just shut everything up, or start to say something and then push me away.”

“Alright then, let’s see,” Merlin said, pretending to think. “You get immediately bored whenever anyone complains about work, you want to go out _all the time_ , even though I’ve told you I have a monthly budget and can’t afford it. You _still_ haven’t learned to do laundry and you take it for granted that I’ll take care of it, or that I don’t have anything more interesting going on when you want to come over… I don’t care if this stuff is boring for you Arthur, it’s not for me! It’s my _life_ , and you just treat it like it’s nothing!”

Arthur stood still, shocked. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah.” Merlin pushed past him and through the door.

Arthur followed him into the lounge. “But I hardly think you’re being fair. How can I be expected to know if you don’t tell me?”

“It’s not my job to make you a better person Arthur!”

“I’m not saying it is, but—”

“But what?” Merlin spun around.

“But you still have to talk to me! You can’t assume I won’t care and just write me off, you have to give me an actual chance to try! For fuck’s sake Merlin, I don’t know what you’re feeling half the time, you’re constantly pulling away. Even when it’s clear you’re upset you act like everything’s fine! I can’t be with half of you Merlin, it’s not _fair_!”

“All I did was not tell you I was staying here for Christmas, Arthur, why is it that big of a deal?”

“Because it feels like you don’t even want to be in a relationship with me!”

“Well maybe that’s because I know you’ll only be here as long as it’s convenient and there’s no point in getting invested!”

There was a long silence. Arthur and Merlin stared at each other, the weight of their words slowly sinking in. Merlin opened his mouth and shut it again.

“Right.” Arthur’s face hardened into an impassive mask, his eyes blazing. “Well. I guess I should just leave now, then.”

Merlin swallowed. “I don’t see why not.”

“Fine.” Arthur said, taking a step back, his jaw clenched. “At least you’ve finally had the decency to trust me with the truth.”

The door shut between them with a solid indifference, leaving a silence that echoed louder than anything either Merlin or Arthur had said.


	3. Chapter 3

Merlin felt like he’d been listening to the Skype chime for a million years. He drummed his fingers on the edge of his laptop, his eyes flicking between the circle with Arthur’s initials and the clock in his laptop’s corner. He took a deep breath and started counting the rings as he breathed out.

_One… Two… Three…_

“Hi!” The fourth chime was cut short as Arthur’s image popped onto the screen, glitching slightly.

“Hey,” Merlin grinned, a wave of relief washing through him.

“Sorry about that,” Arthur’s video wobbled as he walked with his laptop, eventually stabilizing when he set it down and sat in front of it. “I, uh didn’t notice the time and I had my hands full.”

“It’s alright,” Merlin assured him quickly. He sat up a little straighter. “How’ve you been?”

“Good. You?”

“Alright, all things considered.”

Arthur’s hair was a little longer than the last time Merlin had seen him, the sides had grown out a bit and the front was close to getting in his eyes. Merlin ran his hand through his own hair, leaving the top mussed, and tried to remember what he’d looked like the last time he’d been face to face with Arthur.

“Er, so, you wanted to talk?” Merlin asked, trying to stop himself running through every haircut he’d gotten in the last seven months.

“Right.” The word came out on a long sigh and Arthur shifted in his seat, looking down.

Merlin waited. He could see Arthur’s mind working to put together the words before he spoke, and Merlin did his best to ignore the fact that reading Arthur without thinking was supposed to be firmly locked in the “relationship stuff” part of his brain.

“I spoke to Nimueh,” Arthur said at last. He took a deep breath, leaning back from his laptop. He still didn’t look at the screen as he added.

“She was able to tell me… a _lot_ about how my Mother died.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“And?”

Arthur’s expression darkened and a frown creased the space between his eyebrows. “I’m not surprised my Father didn’t tell me about it, considering.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Merlin asked cautiously. “You don’t have to, obviously. If you just want to talk about other stuff and catch up that’s fine."

“No. No, I… I need to tell someone.”

Arthur’s explanation was brief. He went over the main points of the situation with a stone-faced detachment that— if Merlin didn’t know him better— would have seemed like indifference. Both of them were silent for a moment when he got to the end.

“Fuck,” Merlin said.

Arthur laughed, a surprised snort that broke up his stoic expression. “That rather elegantly sums it up, yes.”

“So, wait, where are you now? Are you still at the palace?”

Arthur leaned back again, running his hand through his hair. “No, er, I drove to Tintagel, actually. Right after I texted you.”

“Seriously?”

“Well, I had to get a car from the garage first, which wasn’t as hard as you’d think, and I made a stop in Exeter and got a falafel, but other than that…”

“Wait— who’s with you?” Merlin frowned.

“No one.”

“Arthur!”

“Don’t start, Merlin, I’ll call Leon and Morgana once I have the strength of will to turn my phone back on.”

Merlin stared at him, torn between laughter and concern. “They’re going to think you’ve been kidnapped. I’m surprised it’s not on the news already. Mum’s gonna come in any minute saying there’s a some kind of lookout on the BBC and I’ll have to tell her, ‘oh no, it’s all fine, Arthur’s right here, actually, talking to me on Skype.’”

Arthur sighed, looking amused. “That’s not going to happen, Merlin.”

“Why shouldn’t it?”

“First, because this is the second time this summer I’ve vanished without warning, they can put two and two together. And second, we have surveillance cameras that will show me leaving of my own free will.”

Arthur was properly smiling, and Merlin beamed back. “Still, if they start offering a reward I can’t guarantee I’ll keep my mouth shut.”

Arthur snorted. “Understood.” A second later something flashed over his face and his smile faded. “It’s just— I don’t know what to think. It’s his fault, isn’t it? He… didn’t have the common decency to admit it. He’s _never_ …” Arthur trailed off, staring into space just to the left of his laptop camera.

Merlin sucked in his lower lip, stopping himself from saying any of the things he was thinking about how to end that sentence.

Arthur pushed a hand through his hair. “The thing I keep coming back to is that it shouldn’t even be a surprise. I mean, the details, yes, but I think I was so hung up on it because I wanted some kind of proof that for _once_ things weren’t as bad as I thought.”

“Arthur, I'm saying this in the best way possible, but that’s absolute shite.” Merlin told him. “You’ve spent half the time you were talking about this— now and when you first told me about it— acting like actually you have to find excuses for wanting to know something that’s totally reasonable for you to know. And now you’re acting like actually hoping he’d be decent is somehow a big ask, it’s nonsense.”

“You sound like Morgana,” Arthur mumbled.

“Yeah, well, maybe she’s right about _some_ things.”

Arthur raised his eyebrows. “She’s right about a lot, actually.”

Merlin did his best to not make his smile look like a wince. “Good to know.”

“You shouldn’t be mad at her, you know,” Arthur told him, straightening up in his seat.

“There’s nothing to be mad about, really, not anymore.”

“That doesn’t mean you’re not still mad, don’t deflect.”

“I’m not sure it’s deflecting if it’s relevant, but fine.” Merlin sighed. “I’m glad you two’ve made up, honestly, and it’s hardly a big deal since it’s not like I’ll be seeing her anytime soon, but yeah. Maybe you’re right and I’m still a little mad about it.”

Arthur paused, looking down. “She didn’t tell Uther about us, you know. Maybe there was more she could have done to stop him finding out, but I don’t think that’s fair to put on her and I’d rather not spend time on maybes at this point.”

“That sounds like a good way of looking at things,” Merlin said. He didn’t know that he could really bring himself to share Arthur’s perspective, even if he respected it. “And I _am_ glad you two worked things out. Honestly, that’s great.”

“Thanks.” Arthur smiled. He took a deep breath. “Now I just need to figure out what the hell I’m doing… I can only stay here so long before life catches up with me.”

“Yeah, well,” Merlin smiled, “despite all appearances you’ve actually got some skills, you’ll work it out.”

Arthur rubbed his eyes slowly, pulling his hands down his face. “It’s not even just my father, it’s everything. I don’t know how much longer I can take everything at court, I just feel… stuck.” Arthur stared off into the distance again, blinking slowly. After a moment, he shook himself. “Anyway. Enough about this, how’re things with you?”

Merlin sighed. “Busy. Freya’s doing a lot to help me get work stuff sorted… We finally actually figured out the best way to have me work on clearing up and reformatting the records, even if I won’t be able to do as much from here. Oh! And Gwen and Lance have started posting coupley photos on instagram with absolutely revolting captions, I couldn’t be happier.”

Arthur frowned. “It’s only been two weeks, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah, well, that’s Gwen and Lance for you. Remember how quickly they hit it off in first year? As friends I mean, though I wouldn’t be surprised if Lance has been pining ever since then.”

“Alright, now I _know_ you’re exaggerating.”

“Honestly, I don’t think I am. I was ready to put money down on it."

Arthur laughed. “Did you really have a betting pool going?”

“Yeah— me, Will, and Gwaine. It was only five quid each and it was just on who would ask the other out and when. Didn’t take them long enough to add extra conditions to it or anything.” Merlin sighed. “I do have to say it’s nice being on this side of things.” He realized what he’s said the second words were out of his mouth. “Shit, sorry,” he scrambled, feeling his face grow hot. “I didn’t mean to— I… Can we just forget I said anything?”

“It’s _fine_ , Merlin.” Arthur said, in the tone that said Merlin was babbling. “We… we should talk about it.”

“We should talk about the needlessly specific betting pool our friends had on when and how we’d start a relationship?”

“No, I meant. I think we should be able to talk about the fact that we dated. It happened, it’s not going to go away just because we keep dancing around it, and the longer we go without mentioning it the worse it’ll be.”

“Right.” Merlin nodded, lapsing into silence. His gaze drifted down to his keyboard and he ran his thumbnail along the edge of his spacebar. After a long moment he said, “I’m sorry.”

“Merlin—”

“I know what you’re going to say,” Merlin kept going without looking up, “that it wasn’t only my fault or that you also messed up, but that doesn’t change that I basically accused you of using me and that wasn’t—” he swallowed. “Fuck. That wasn’t at all fair to you, Arthur, and I know that. So, I’m sorry.”

“If we’re talking about being fair, you had reasons that,” Arthur told him. “Not… Not necessarily that I was using you maybe, but the first priority when it comes to my future has always been my title. It’s not like I gave you much indication that you were… compatible with that.”

“It still wasn’t fair, though!” Merlin said, finally looking back at his screen. “I was scared of what might happen so convinced myself you were going to leave as soon as I stopped being convenient and pulled away before you could. I should’ve talked to you about it, I should have trusted when you said you—” He broke off and looked down again. “Well the point is that I shouldn’t’ve assumed.”

“Right, but I also shouldn’t have taken you for granted, or been dismissive of the things that were bothering you, and I absolutely was without even realizing it. You spent more than enough time teasing apart whatever ridiculous knots of Pendragon baggage I presented you with, the least I could have done was listened in return.”

“You did a little,” Merlin told him, “Just…” he tried to find the right words for it.

“Not when it really mattered?” Arthur filled in. “Not when it would have meant doing anything that approached the actual work of being emotionally supportive and, I don’t know, a halfway decent partner?”

“Arthur. You were more than halfway decent.”

Arthur smiled, just barely. “Thanks. Doesn’t erase me being selfish and entitled.”

“Yeah…” Merlin sighed, pushing his hand though his hair and looking down at his laptop keyboard. He wiped a bit of grime from between the keys and added, “Anyway, I think I kind of liked that you were, sometimes. Not— I mean, I don’t think that was a good thing, I think it ultimately made it worse for both of us, but… It made it easier for me not invest as much. In us. Not to give you as much of me. And, like, that was part of the problem, but yeah. Sometimes it’s easier to be the person helping someone else, you know?”

They were both quiet for a moment, then Merlin laughed, feeling like it lifted a weight off his chest that he hadn’t realized had been there.

“Shit. If we’d just had this conversation in December maybe we could’ve stayed friends all along.”  
Arthur let out a soft snort of a laugh. “Yeah, maybe.”

A sad kind of smile played around the corners Arthur’s mouth and Merlin felt something catch in his throat. He wondered if Arthur was thinking the same thing he was.

“I think we needed the time, though.” Arthur said after a long moment. “I’m not sure either of us could have actually had the perspective in the moment.”

“Yeah…” Merlin agreed. “Besides,” he let out an in an exaggerated sigh, “you kick in your sleep and you’re absolutely incapable of sharing blankets, it just wasn’t meant to be.”

“You’re one to talk, I don’t think I had a single meal where you didn’t try to steal food off my plate.”

“See, it wouldn’t work out.”

“Absolutely not.”

Arthur was smiling and Merlin grinned back at him. He’d missed Arthur, he realized. Not Arthur his boyfriend or Arthur the ex he wanted back, but just _Arthur_. He’d missed being able to talk and make jokes and argue over nothing with him, and it hadn’t hit him until just now.

“Well, it’s good to know we’re both at fault, at least."

“Exactly,” Arthur agreed. “We’re on level footing.”

Merlin’s grin spread a little wider across his face. “Level footing that shows I’m an inch taller.”

“You are not!”

“I am! We measured and everything, you just won’t admit it.”

“We are the same height Merlin, you’re just skinnier, it tricks the eye.”

“The eye of the… tape measure?”

“The eye of the person doing the measuring, which— as I remember— was Will, so he can hardly be counted on to give a fair answer.”

“We had Gwen double check!”

“And clearly you paid her off.”

Merlin laughed, tilting his head back.

Arthur waited until he’d finished, a smile lingering around the edges of his mouth. As Merlin took a deep breath, Arthur asked, “So how’s Ealdor, then?”

Merlin’s smile faded. “Er, it’s good. Mum’s well. Er… and my dad’s here?”

“What?” Arthur’s eyes widened and he leaned in a little towards the computer. “Did you say your dad?”

“Yeah…” Merlin rubbed the back of his neck. “He turned up last Sunday, apparently he looked up my mum on Facebook and saw she’d had a son, so… Yeah.”

“Merlin that’s… I don’t know, really. How is it?”

A grin started to spread over Merlin’s face. “It’s really good actually.”

“That’s great.”

“Yeah. I’m not really sure he knows how to talk to me— he’s basically said as much, actually— but it’s really amazing to actually get to meet him.”

Arthur smiled at him. “I can imagine.”

“Shit,” Merlin immediately felt guilty. “I’m sorry, you probably… Yeah. I don’t have to talk about it, if you want.”

Arthur gave him a look. Annoyingly, he actually gave the camera a look rather than his screen and Merlin swallowed. “ _Merlin_. You’ve met your father for the first time in your life, you can tell me that without worrying about how it’s going to affect me. I’m not going to sit here talking your ear off about my familial drama without letting you share actual things about your life. If I’m trying not to be selfish, you don’t get to pull back.”

“Hey!”

“Am I wrong?”

“No, but just because we’re actually talking about our relationship doesn’t mean you get to weaponize it this soon.”

“Hm, I’m fairly certain it does, actually,” Arthur said lightly. “Now talk.”

Merlin sighed. “Well, he’s staying at the B&B. I met him Monday, and I’ve seen him a couple times since. Not as much as I’d like since I’ve been getting stuff set up for work, but he’s coming over for dinner Monday night.” He glanced down at his hands, fidgeting with them a little. “It’s sort of awkward talking to him, honestly. I’m hoping it might be easier at dinner with Mum there, since she knows him, or at least did, at one point in their lives.”

“How’s she doing with him being back?”

“Alright. They’ve talked… twice? I think? Unless there’s more I don’t know about. I don’t expect them to get back together or anything,” he added quickly.

Arthur nodded. “Right.”

“They seem on okay terms, though. But yeah.” Merlin made himself let out a long breath, trying to release some of the tension in his chest. “That’s… that’s how that’s going, I guess.”

Arthur nodded again, more slowly. “I’m glad. And I hope that dinner goes well, let me know, will you?”

“Yeah, thanks. Let me know how it goes with, er, well. You know, everything.”

“Yeah,” Arthur let out a strained laugh, pushing his hands through his hair. “God, I’ve blown everything up, haven’t I?”

“Probably.” Merlin grinned. “You should call Morgana and Leon and find out.”

“Ughhhh… No.”

“Yep! Can’t run away from things forever.”

Arthur buried his face in his hands. “No. I’m turning off the internet, you’ll never hear from me again.”

“Alright, I’ll let you know when I get that reward money then, shall I?”

“That’s it, I’m hanging up now. This is it.”

“Okay, call Leon.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “ _Goodnight_ Merlin.”

Merlin laughed. “Night, Arthur.”

* * *

Merlin helped his mum make dinner on Monday night. Will hadn’t been allowed near the kitchen since the time Hunith had tried to teach him to make soup and he’d eaten half the ingredients before they went into the pot, so his part of the preparations were relegated to setting the table and helping Hunith tidy up. Really Merlin did most of the cooking, Hunith was in and out checking on Will and taking care of some emails for work, but Merlin was more than happy to take care of it. Having something to keep his hands busy kept him from glancing at the clock too often or wondering what to say during dinner.

The few visits he’d had with Balinor had all been strangely impersonal. More often than not their conversations were punctuated with long periods of silence, for at least the first three Merlin had found Balinor more than willing to talk about his work, and he’d learned a lot about the migration patterns of various threatened birds of prey in the past week, but whenever they finished talking Merlin realized he’d come away with no more information about the man than he had about his more reserved professors.

The thing was, Merlin couldn’t blame him. More than once when Balinor had asked him something in return he’d defaulted to talking about his interest in medieval literature, or how literacy had developed, or how stories spread and became popular and when art was viewed as high class and when it wasn’t, or the ways that different branches of Middle English did or did not end up persisting in the shift to Modern English and how challenging various texts were to translate as a result… Or basically anything else that was on his mind whenever Balinor asked. To his credit, he seemed genuinely interested in what Merlin had to say, but Merlin had realized that his delivery was stuck in “how to politely explain to your social sciences friends what your program’s like” mode (also know as “actually, Gwaine, there is research involved it’s just of a different sort than yours”) free from any of the editorializing and anecdotes he liked to add when he got he chance to go on about why he loved it.

The doorbell rang just as Merlin was taking the chicken out of the oven. He quickly set the roasting pan on top of the stove and tugged off the oven mitts, tossing them onto the counter and hurrying to the foyer. Hunith was shutting the door Merlin got there and Balinor was standing in the middle of the worn rug, taking in the room around him.

“Hi,” Merlin grinned.

Balinor looked over at him. “Hello. I, er, brought wine.” Turning to Hunith, he held out a bottle.

She took it from him, smiling. “Thank you. I’ll take it to the table. The dining room’s just through here.”

Balinor followed her while Merlin ducked back into the kitchen to get the chicken. He brought it out and set it on the table along with the potatoes and salad already there.

“That looks lovely darling, thanks for cooking.” Hunith smiled at him.

Balinor looked up at Merlin as he pulled his chair closer to the table. “You made all this?”

“Er, well, sort of.” Merlin moved around the table, pulling out the chair across from Balinor. “Mum helped with most of it.”

“Don’t be modest, you deserve all the credit.”

“I’m impressed,” Balinor told him, “at your age I don’t think I could manage much more than beans on toast most days.”

Hunith took some salad and passed the tongs to Balinor. “Yes, Merlin’s always been very active in the kitchen, I wish I could take more credit for his talents.”

“Mum…”

“It’s true!” She reached for the potatoes and spooned some out onto her plate. “By the way, would you mind telling Will we’ve started? He’s in the lounge.”

Balinor looked up sharply from pouring dressing on his salad. “Will?”

The table was silent except for the sounds of clinking forks and knives against plates. Balinor kept shooting glances at Will who was eating in large, enthusiastic bites. He seemed more than a little wrong-footed by Will’s presence and Merlin inwardly winced, wishing he’d told Balinor about him in advance.

Balinor cleared his throat. “So, uh, how do you know Merlin, then?”

“We grew up together,” Will answered without looking up. “And we live together in Camelot.”

“He’s my best mate,” Merlin clarified.

“Right,” Balinor nodded slowly, his brows still furrowed. He looked back down at his plate.

Merlin stared across the table at him, desperately trying to figure out something to say. His mind felt agonizingly blank.

He was mercifully rescued by Hunith. “So, how was everyone’s day?”

Will shrugged. “Eh, you know. Caught up with people, went for a walk. Played some Skyrim.”

“What about you, Merlin? How’s working remote?”

“Uh, it’s fine.” Merlin pulled his gaze away from Balinor to look at his mother. “There’s a bit of an adjustment, but it’s mostly been going alright.” He looked down at his plate, spearing some potatoes on his fork. “What about you, Mum?”

“Oh, hectic. As usual,” she laughed. “Could be worse though, at least it’s not tax season.”

“What is it you do now?” Balinor asked, looking up from his food.

“I’m an accountant, I went back to school a few years back. I work with a lot of the businesses in town.”

Balinor nodded, but didn’t say anything.

Merlin fiddled with his fork. After a few moments, Balinor asked. “So… Merlin, what sort of hobbies have you got? How do you keep busy in Camelot?”

“Er, we have board game nights sometimes. Me and Will usually host. Other that that, I don’t know…” he scratched the back of his neck. “Reading? Or I’ll go for hikes sometimes. Oh, and I’m on pub quiz team with my friends.”

“Sound nice.” Balinor brought a forkful of salad to his mouth.

“Yeah, it is.”

Swallowing, Balinor asked, “Have you got a girlfriend?”

“Er, _no_ ,” Merlin answered, stifling a snort. “Definitely not.”

Will glanced up from his plate. “He’s gay, mate.”

“Oh.” Balinor looked over at Merlin.

Merlin flashed a smile at him. “Yep.”

“He’s only got about five pride pins on his jacket,” Will muttered.

Hunith sighed. “William…” she said in a warning tone.

“Well… Ah…” Balinor shifted his weight awkwardly, looking down at his plate. “A boyfriend then?”

“Uhm, no.” It came out more forceful than Merlin meant it too.

Will snorted. “Not at the moment.”

Merlin looked up at the ceiling. “Will…”

“I honestly can’t wait to see how you explain this, it’s been ages since you’ve had to tell anyone new about it.”

“I don’t _have_ to explain anything.”

Balinor was looking between them, his brow furrowed. “If I’ve hit on a sore subject…”

Hunith said, “Not everyone understands Will’s particular sense of humour, but he means well.” Her eyes darted to Will. “Doesn’t he?”

“Yeah,” Merlin told Balinor. “And it’s fine, really,” Merlin told him quickly. “It’s just… complicated.”

Will laughed. “What happened to the two of you were mates now?”

“ _Will_ …” Merlin took a deep breath. “You’re not helping,” he added in a calmer tone.

“Right, sorry, I’ll let you get on with it then, shall I?”

Merlin turned to Balinor who still looked confused bordering on concerned. “My ex—”

“Arthur…” Will interjected.

“My ex and I split up in December. And, er, he was sort of—”

“ _Sort of?_ ”

“William.” Hunith looked at him across the table with a forced smile. “Would you like to help me in the kitchen for a moment?”

Will immediately arranged his face into an innocent expression. “That’s alright, Hunith, I haven’t quite finished my potatoes yet.” He turned to Merlin. “You were saying?”

Merlin sighed. “Can you stop it, Will? This isn’t funny anymore.”

Will’s mouth twitched at he did his best to restrain his grin. “It is a little funny.”

The thing was that in most other circumstances Merlin probably would have agreed with him. Introducing Arthur to Freya after telling her about his boyfriend without including the whole prince part of it had been one of the strangest and funniest interactions of his life. But now he really wasn’t in the mood to laugh about it.

Merlin opened his mouth to say something, but Balinor got there first. “I’m sorry, but why are you here, exactly?” He asked, a strained tension finding its way into his voice.

“I could ask you the same question,” Will crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair.

“ _I’m_ trying to get to know my son, I’m not even clear on who you are exactly, let alone why you’re here for this.”

“That’s enough!” Hunith brought her hand down on the table and everyone jumped. “Will, you’ve finished your potatoes, why don’t you take your plate into the kitchen.”

“But—”

“Now. And as for you,” she turned to Balinor. “Will has been a part of this family for a long time now and he will always have a seat at my table if he wants it. If you’ve got a problem with that, then you’ve had no trouble leaving in the past, you’re welcome to do so again.”

There was a long moment of silence.

“I’m sorry,” Balinor said sincerely. His voice was back to the same low volume it was used to, and his brows were furrowed in earnest contrition.

Hunith nodded sharply. “Good.”

Merlin poked at the food still on his plate, looking sidelong from his mother to Balinor. Clearing his throat, he said, “I think I’m going to help Will.”

Will was standing just inside the doorway of the kitchen when Merlin came in. “Did she chew him out?”

Merlin sidestepped past him, “I dunno, sort of.”

“He deserves it,” Will said, following Merlin over tot he sink and leaning against the counter as Merlin turned on the tap and started loading the dishes from cooking into the sink.

“Honestly,” Will continued, “I don’t know how you’re just fine with him turning up like nothing’s wrong.”

“Well, that’s not what he’s doing, really…” Merlin started scrubbing at a mixing bowl.

“Isn’t it?”

Merlin put the bowl in to the dish rack leaned over to grab a tea towel, tossing it to Will. “He’s not ignoring that he left, and I don’t think he meant to come off like he’s owed a place here or anything. He probably thought he was defending me or something.”

Will scoffed, picking up the bowl and drying it. “It’s just Arthur, you can take it.”

“Yeah, I can, but _he_ probably doesn’t realize that.”

Hunith came in then, carrying the plates and salad bowl, which she set down on the kitchen table. “You cooked, dear, let me.”

Merlin moved aside to let Hunith took his place washing. “Where’s Balinor?”

“He’s in the lounge. And before you ask, _no_ , Will, I’m not tossing him out on his ear. We ironed things out like adults.”

Merlin cleared his throat. “I, uh, think I’m gonna go talk to him.”

“Of course, dear, I told him you’d want to.”

Balinor was standing by the fireplace when Merlin entered the room, studying something on the mantlepiece.

“Hi,” Merlin said.

Balinor turned around and gave him a small smile. “Hi. I wasn’t sure… After how dinner went I thought I should probably make myself scarce but Hunith said I should wait to say goodbye.”

“I’m glad you did.” Merlin took a few steps into the room. “Not that you have to leave or anything. I don’t think dinner was all that bad.”

“Thank you for saying so.” Balinor turned back to the mantlepiece. He pointed to a small wooden dragon standing to one side. “That looks like one of mine.”

“It is.” Merlin moved to stand next to him. “I found it in a box when I was a kid and mum said I could have it. She told me you made it while you were living here.”

“I did. I’m surprised she kept it.” Balinor’s eyes moved along the mantlepiece. “Now that one _isn’t_ one of mine.”

Merlin’s eyes followed to where Balinor was pointing at another carved dragon, this one curled around itself as if it was asleep. “No, Will made that.”

“Will?” Balinor raised his eyebrows.

“His dad taught Will how to whittle when we were kids. He tried to teach me but Will was better at it. He gave me that for my sixteenth birthday.”

Balinor nodded, still looking at the sleeping dragon.

“Sorry about how he was a dinner. He’s just… protective, I guess.”

Balinor glanced over at Merlin. “He said you grew up together?”

“Yeah. Mum was friends with his parents. You might’ve met them even, the Turners? Anyway, we’ve been best friends for as long as I can remember. We’d look out for each other, you know?He was a year below me in school but he’d still stand up for me, and I’d watch out for him to make sure he didn’t get himself in trouble with the wrong person. He’s never been shy about speaking his mind.”

“I can see that,” Balinor said, smiling.

“Yeah…” Merlin looked down. “But Mum and I are protective of him too, you know? His dad died in a car crash when he was nine and then two years later his mum got sick. She died about a year after. He’s got an aunt and uncle who looked after him, but they moved away a couple years ago.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. It doesn’t sound like an easy life.”

“No, it wasn’t, really.” Merlin looked down at the carpet, dragging his toe along it to make a line. “But yeah, that’s Will.” He looked up. “And he’s my best mate, no matter what.”

Balinor nodded. “I think I owe him an apology.”

“To be fair, he probably owes you one too.”

A smile cracked Balinor’s face. “Maybe.” He turned away from the fireplace to fully face Merlin. “And I’m sorry about the, ah, boyfriend thing. I don’t need to know why it’s such a can of worms, but it certainly seemed to be.”

“It’s fine,” Merlin assured him. “I’m not really sure I’m ready to explain it? But it’s alright, really. It’s not as big a deal as Will makes it seem. Or maybe it is,” he added, with a laugh, “I’ve sort of lost perspective.”

Balinor raised his eyebrows at Merlin. “I’ve already committed myself to not asking…”

Merlin laughed again. “Yeah, Er. It’s… I dunno.” He took a deep breath. “Basically, I used to go out with Prince Arthur?” He paused to gauge Balinor’s reaction before adding quickly, “And we’re friends now, and it really isn’t anything worth talking about but it is a little tough to explain to people and Will’s always thought it was funny…” Merlin trailed off, registering Balinor’s increasingly confused expression. “Aaaand I’ve lost you. Sorry.”

“No. No, it’s fine, really.” Balinor glanced down. “This is good, I want to know about your life, and this… sounds like a sizeable part of it.”

“Yeah… But so’s a lot of stuff. Like my friends back in Camelot, or doing tech for the am-dram society when I was in secondary school, and they both need a lot less explanation.”

Balinor smiled at him. “That they do. I’d love to hear about them.”

“I’d love to tell you about them.”

“Great.” Balinor’s smile widened. “I think it might be a bit late tonight, but we could have lunch tomorrow?”

“Yeah. That would be great,” Merlin beamed. The tense anxiety in his chest that he’d been carrying around Balinor dissolved a little and he let out a relieved breath. “I’ll meet you at Mary’s pub?”

“That sounds good.” Balinor smiled at him. After a beat he looked away, inhaling. “Anyway, I think I should go. I’ll just find Will before I do, shall I?”

“Yeah, I think he’s in the kitchen. I can send him in if you want?”

“If you would. And I’ll see you at lunch tomorrow.”

Merlin nodded, grinning widely. “Yeah. I can’t wait.”

* * *

To: apendragon@gmail.com  
From: merlin.emrys@gmail.com  
Subject: is it weird to say i missed email??  
 _Sent 20 July, 2019_

alright so one: working remote is amazing, i’ve experienced the joy of working in my kitchen where i have and infinite supply of cheese toasties and i never want to have to go into an office again. except that getting to actually look at medieval texts in person kind of conflicts with that so who knows… anyway yeah. i feel like we haven’t been talking as much lately, and i sort of liked longer form messages so yeah. email.

will’s been sort of restless. i think he misses being in the city, but I also feel like if we were here more permanently he’d find something to do, you know? we don’t totally know how long we’ll be staying, but we do know we’re here longer than like, a week, so it’s sort of weird, you know? vacation limbo. i have told him that he can head back to camelot any time, but you know will. he called me thick and said he’d be stay as long as i did. he’s a little leery of balinor (though less than he was) but i honestly don’t know what i’d do without him here. it’s not like we talk about heavy things really, it’s just that having him around is nice. makes it a little more normal. plus the weed patch he started in the woods is still there and i’d have no clue how to decarboxylate it on my own. we made (pretty shite) brownies, if you’re wondering. the shite-ness had more to do with the quality of the weed than our baking though.

things with balinor are going a bit better. it’s still weird but there are fewer awkward pauses. it’s nice. honestly the weirdest part is that i’m meeting him here? like, i’m not totally sure this’ll make sense but i’m gonna try to explain it cause i’ve been thinking about it a lot. also there are kinda two parts of it. part one is that, like, just being back in ealdor is weird. because it’s so much the same between each of my visits, and it’s been so much the same for the past three years. meanwhile i’m not convinced i could tell you what 18yo me was thinking about day to day if i tried. whenever i come back here though it’s like……. trying to be him again. but also, like, all other past me’s? or not really idk. it’s like. okay, so, all the various ages that i was while i still lived here feel far more contiguous with each other than who i am now does with any of it. even if i’m way closer to being 18 than 18yo me is to being 10 or whatever.

and there’s part two, with my dad being here. cause everything’s the same, except that he’s here. and he’s never been here (in my lifetime, i guess). and i’m not gonna bemoan not having a dad because, aside from sometimes thinking about what it might be like, i was fine with just mum. i mean don’t get me wrong, being able to tell that a lot of time she was pretty stressed being a single parent having a hard time finding work wasn’t great but that never felt like a thing that would be fixed by balinor being here. point is, there’s like this weird cognitive dissonance between him being here and that being a huge big change, and me and will being back in ealdor where it feels like time moves slower than everywhere else. and it’s fucking weird.

shit that got long. sorry about that, i hope it made some sense.

i hope you’re doing well at the cottage, let me know how the garden survived your absence. have you talked to anyone in london? or just anyone who isn’t me? let me know if you want to be added back to the groupchat, i was supposed to ask you ages ago but then my father turned up out of the blue and whatnot so, yknow. life.

m

* * *

Arthur made it nearly two days before deciding to bite the bullet and turn his phone back on Tuesday evening. He was greeted with a flood of texts and a truly daunting number of missed calls that made him want to throw his phone off the nearest cliff. Instead, he turned it faced down on his desk, went to the kitchen, made himself a sandwich and poured himself a generous glass of wine before sitting down to face the inevitable.

He started with the texts, deciding that any voicemails were best ignored altogether. He didn’t bother looking at the messages from his father, just deleting the entire conversation unread and blocking his number for good measure. He skimmed through the few messages from Leon, before tapping out a confirmation that he was alive and thoroughly un-kidnapped. He hoped that would be enough for Leon, he’d always been good about coming down on Arthur’s side rather than that of official protocol when it really mattered. Finally, Arthur opened his conversation with Morgana, slowly reading through all the texts she’d sent since Sunday. They started out relatively calm, slowly escalating into concern and annoyance. Arthur stared at the last one— a prolonged string of profanity, not all of it in English— for a long moment before taking a deep breath and typed out a reply. He’d barely hit send his phone started ringing. Arthur answered it, bracing himself.

“Morgana.”

“Goddammit Arthur, what happened?”

Arthur stared at his half-eaten sandwich. He didn’t know how to answer.

“I fought with Uther,” he said at last. “After speaking to Nimueh. About my mother.”

“Well, that would certainly explain things.”

“Why?” Arthur asked. “What’s happening?”

“For one thing he won’t talk to anyone unless he’s snapping at them. For another, he goes over a sort of puce colour if someone brings you up, which— you can probably imagine— has happened quite a bit, disappearing act and all. He hasn’t given us any guidance so we’ve just put it out that you’ve got a stomach bug and cancelled all your appointments for the next two weeks.”

“I see.” Arthur registered the information dully, as something that didn’t really matter.

Morgana paused, seemingly waiting for him to say more before asking, “Are you going to tell me what you learned?”

Arthur took a deep breath. He sighed, leaning back in his chair and rubbing his forehead. “I don’t know. I’m not even convinced it’s as big as I’m making it. I just… I don’t like knowing I was lied to.”

“Well, you don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to.”

Morgana waited, Arthur stared at the desk in front of him. He wasn’t sure what he wanted. On the one hand, Morgana was the only reason he’s called Nimueh in the first place, and he couldn’t imagine that she’d blame how he reacted. On the other hand, he could already imagine what she’d say about Uther’s lies, his hypocrisy and cold heartedness… it would all be things he’d heard from her before and it wasn’t what he needed to hear from her now.

“You should leave,” he found himself saying.

“What?” Morgana sounded genuinely confused.

“Just—” Arthur closed his eyes, leaning back and pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to work through what he was trying to say. “Look. What do you _want_ to do? Job, life, anything.”

Morgana hesitated. “I… I suppose I’d like to be doing free-lance or contract work,” she said slowly. “I like my job, but if it’s all the same I’d rather be coordinating press releases about arts organizations, or companies doing interesting work. I’d like to see Morgause more, maybe live closer to her. I’d like to have family dinners that were the three of us rather than you, me, and Uther. I’d like to travel, to have more time to read— I don’t know, Arthur. How on Earth am I supposed to answer that?”

“No,” Arthur said, “that’s good, that’s exactly what I meant.” He stood up, slowly walking the length of his room. “And what’s stopping those things from happening?”

“What are you getting at Arthur?”

“Just,” Arthur squeezed his eyes shut again, “humour me. Please.”

“Well, you know. We’ve talked about this. I’m currently employed in a position that takes up a lot of my time, a job that I have because I wanted to be close to some part of my family, to feel less alienated from you and Uther. Morgause is currently living up North and it’s hard to go see her, for some reason you think she doesn’t like you, even though you’ve resented her since she beat you in that fencing match—”

“Right,” Arthur cut her off, “but most of that either isn’t the case anymore or it can change.”

“You’ll try to get on with Morgause?”

Arthur sighed. “That’s not— I just mean that there’s nothing _really_ that’s stopping you from leaving, if you really want to. We both know Uther won’t change, and you don’t need to live at the palace to see me or to have dinners together. So you should leave. You should do what you actually want to be doing with your life, not waiting around for what you’ve got to feel worthwhile.”

Morgana was silent for a long moment. The only sign that she was still there was the faintest sound of breath. Arthur walked back over to the desk and sat down slowly, taking a long drag on his wine. He set the glass down and waited.

At last, Morgana said, “Why are you saying this?” Arthur opened his mouth, but Morgana added, “You’re absolutely right, and I’m glad to have your support, but I want to know why you chose to say it the way you did.”

Arthur sighed. “I don’t want to go back, Morgana. Honestly, this past month has been hell, and now after everything that’s happened with Uther— and I will tell you about that, I promise, just not right now— but after that…” he trailed off. “I’m tired,” he said, more quietly. “I don’t know why I’m doing this other than it’s the thing that I have to be doing because it’s always been what’s expected of me. And I don’t know what I’d be doing if I had the change to do anything else, but I do know that you have that chance. You’re one of the most capable people I know and you shouldn’t be stuck under Uther’s thumb. At least one of us needs to get out of there.”

“Arthur…”

“Don’t say it Morgana,” he swallowed, “please.”

“You could get out too, Arthur. Your future isn’t set in stone.”

Arthur sighed. “I’ve got to go.”

Morgana echoed his sigh, but all she said was, “Alright, Arthur.”

“I’ll talk to you soon.”

“Talk soon.” As Arthur moved to hang up, she added, “And Arthur? Thanks.”

* * *

To: merlin.emrys@gmail.com  
From: apendragon@gmail.com  
Subject: it’s not weird at all  
 _Sent 23 July, 2019_

Merlin,

I’m doing all right. Leon’s covering for me and it seems like Uther isn’t keen on dragging me back to London at the moment anyhow so that’s good. I had a phone call with Morgana on Tuesday (which was a week ago I’m realizing, where on Earth does the time go?), and we’ve been texting since. I filled her in on what Nimueh said that way, but we haven’t talked much about it. I don’t think we really need to, she’s already been very supportive through all of it and she’s got enough of her own stuff going on.

She’s got people in her office taking care of the public side of things but she herself is rather busy getting ready to move out of Buckingham Palace and setting up her job for someone new to take over. It’s honestly about time and I couldn’t be happier for her. I don’t think she’s told Uther yet, but he’ll find out that she’s turned in her notice sooner or later.

The garden is doing wonderfully. I had to do a fair bit of weeding when I first got here and reassess my watering schedule (with the help of a lot of gardening blogs), but it doesn’t need nearly as much time from me anymore so I can spend my time on some other things around the house. I’ve gotten a lot of new linens, and I’ve decided to reorganize the kitchen a bit. When I was here earlier I just sort of put things wherever, but I think I might be here a while so I should put the time into actually finding things more fitting places. The next step after that is probably to freshen up the outside a little.

I think I get what you mean about vacation limbo. I’ve sort of been ignoring the eventuality of going back, but it’s not like I can stay here forever. If I were a private citizen maybe, but I get the feeling people would eventually notice if they never see the crown prince again. Still, even if I do leave, I want this place to be livable. It’s miles nicer than any of the summer houses (to me anyway) even if it does need some work and they have better mattresses. But I can always get new ones if it come down to it.

It’s good to know that things with Balinor are going better. I’m not sure what to say to the rest of it, but I’m glad you told me. And it did make sense. At least, I was able to follow it and take what I thought your meaning was. I’m not sure that I really have anything that’s even remotely like that, though, so it’s more than possible that my interpretation was somewhat incomplete.

Thanks for writing, it was good to have a change to send a longer-form message. I think I will take you up on the groupchat offer, by the way, if everyone else is all right with that. Staying in touch with them would be good for me I think.

Arthur

* * *

Merlin had just finished his work for the day and was making himself a sandwich when Gwen called him.

“Hullo,” he greeted her, putting the phone on speaker so he’d have both hands free.

“Hi, you still free to talk now?”

“Yeah, of course,” Merlin said.

“Great! How are things in Ealdor?”

“Er… pretty good.” Merlin put down the knife he’d been using to cut tomatoes. “I had a visit with Balinor over lunch, we’ve been doing that a lot lately.”

He’d dug out the old notebook that where he’d written all the things he thought he might tell his dad when he was about eight and brought it to that first lunch at the pub. It was only a few pages, plus a bullet-point list he’d added when he was seventeen and had stumbled upon it again, but it was a good way to start a conversation with Balinor. It felt a little like a way of honouring his younger self’s wishes, too, and he liked that.

Merlin pulled the bag of bread towards him and took out two slices. “Oh, and I got an email from Arthur yesterday.”

“How is he?”

Merlin hesitated. “Uh… I think I might need to get back to you on that? He seems okay? But he’s also got a lot going on. He’s back in Cornwall, near Tintagel. He was there earlier in the summer, too.”

“Hm…” Gwen’s sewing machine whirred in the background. “Have you asked him about the groupchat yet?”

“Yeah, actually. He said he’d like to join it again.”

“What? And you haven’t added him!”

“I just got the email last night! Besides, I don’t know why it has to be me. Any of you could do it whenever you want.”

“Yes, but he’s _your_ ex and _you’re_ the one who’s reached out to him again.”

“Other way around on that last bit but, fine… I’ll add him.” Merlin picked up some lettuce and arranged on one of the slices of bread. “What’s been going on with you?”

“Oh god…” Gwen sighed. “Well, Elyan’s not going to Camelot. He and dad had a row about it, apparently, but Elyan says it’s not for him and eventually I think he got through. I got Percy to talk to Dad— he didn’t go to uni either, you know. I _think_ it helped, he’s eased off Elyan a bit, at least.”

“That’s good.”

“It’s something.” Gwen sighed again. “I just wish they’d get along better. Other than that there’s not much. I’m sewing a new dress, so if you hear background noise that’s what it is. I’ve got you on speaker.”

“Nice.” Merlin arranged his tomato slices on top of the lettuce. “Send pictures when you finish. You’re on speaker, too, by the way.”

“Naturally. It wouldn’t be one of our phone calls if we weren’t multitasking.”

Merlin grinned. “Of course.”

“What about you, what’ve you been doing?” She asked. “Aside from getting to know Balinor, I mean.”

“Er, well,” Merlin paused as he added cheese on top of the tomato, “right now I’m making a sandwich.”

“Very nice.”

“Other than that…” Merlin put the top on his sandwich and pressed down on it for a second before taking the knife and cutting it along the diagonal. “Um. I’m slowly winning Geoffrey over to the position that I can still be useful working from home. Mostly I’ve been processing requests for loaning stuff to other collections, with a little bit of the usual digitizing records and stuff.”

Gwen hummed, and the sewing machine’s whir paused for a moment. “Sorry, one sec.” There was a _chunk_ followed by a softer click and the whir started up again. “How’s Will holding up?”

Merlin set his sandwich on the table and sat down. “Will’s alright. He’s been talking a bit about getting a job at the pub or on one the farms while we’re here… We’re still paying rent on our flat in Camelot.” Merlin paused, taking a bite of his sandwich. “We need to figure that out, actually,” he said after swallowing, “how soon we’ll be going back, if we should look for subletters, that sort of thing.”

“Isn’t all your stuff still there?”

“Most of it, yeah. But Gwaine’s offered to help box stuff up or vet people if that’s what we end up doing, and we can always drive down for the day or something.”

“Do you think that’s what will end up happening?” The machine stopped again and there was the sound of a chair pushing back.

Merlin shrugged, even though she couldn’t see him. “Maybe. We were already sort of talking about what would happen in the fall. Daegal from work was maybe gonna take my old room. He might just end up moving in early when Will heads back, I think he’s couch surfing now.” Merlin sighed. He put the sandwich half he was holding onto his plate and leaned back in his chair, head tilted up towards the ceiling. “At this point I just have to decide if I’m going back at all before September.”

“I’ll sure things will work out,” Gwen said sympathetically.

“Yeah,” Merlin said without much conviction. He took a bite of sandwich and chewed it in silence. “Anyway,” he swallowed, “how’re the others? How’s Lance?”

“Alright. We actually ended up coming in second in the pub quiz this weekend.”

“Aw, really?” Merlin smiled. “I can’t believe I missed that.”

Gwen laughed. “Well, it was mostly because the Green Knights weren’t there.”

“Still,” Merlin said. “It’s a victory.”

“Yes, it is. Oh! And Elyan’s a Wizardcal now, at least until you and Will get back. He filled in on Saturday. Gwaine told me to my face that he wants joint older sibling custody. I told him I wasn’t sure that existed and he told me he’d invent it and take me to court. So.”

“And how many drinks had he had when this happened?”

“Oh, _several_ but it’s still sweet of him. And Elyan had a fun time.”

Merlin took another bit of his sandwich. “And what about you and Lance?”

“Uh, I’m seeing him tonight actually,” Gwen answered. “We’re having dinner at Dad’s.”

“He’s meeting the parents already? _Gwen_.”

“ _No_ , it’s nothing like that…” Gwen told him. “There’s no pressure and they’ve met plenty of times before.”

“But Lance wasn’t your boyfriend then.”

Gwen sighed. “It’s a causal meal Merlin, there’s nothing to be excited about.”

“Aw, come on, Gwen. Let me have this.”

“Fine.” Merlin could hear Gwen’s smile as she continued, “It’s been really nice, actually. We went for a walk through the botanical garden on campus two days ago, it was really lovely.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Gwen answered, her voice going soft. She added, “Well, Gwaine and Percy turned up halfway through and they brought Elyan with them, but it was still lovely.”

Merlin laughed, coughing a bit as he nearly inhaled a piece of sandwich. When he’d recovered, he managed to ask, “What?”

“They said they saw Lance’s instagram story with us there and didn’t realize it was a date.”

“Gwen. They _absolutely_ knew it was a date.”

“I know that,” Gwen said. “But it’s not really a surprise, is it. And I honestly didn’t mind having them there.”

“Hmm,” Merlin hummed, thinking back to “Nice.”

“Yeah.” Gwen sighed. “Listen, I should probably go… Lance’ll be here soon.”

“Alright. We should talk soon, yeah? I should have an update on how much longer I’m gonna be here soon…”

“Sounds good. And add Arthur to the groupchat! We all miss him.”

“Percy’s never even met him!”

“Well, then everyone but Percy misses him then.”

Merlin sighed. “Alright, fine. Talk to later.”

“You too. Bye!”

* * *

 _Wed, 24 Jul, 5:48 PM_  
 _Merlin Ambrose added Arthur Pendragon to the group_  
 **Merlin:** THERE. You can stop nagging me now, alright?  
 **Lance:** Arthur! Long time no see, how are you?  
 **Gwen:** Hi Arthur!!!!  
 **will says eat the rich:** Wait, Arthur who?? Is this that blond prat who wouldn’t leave us alone for like three years?  
 **not gwaine:** Cheers, Merlin, took you long enough  
 **Arthur:** Hello everybody  
 **Merlin:** Shut up Gwaine  
 **Arthur:** I’m well, Lance, thank you. And you?  
 **Lance:** Not bad  
 **not gwaine:** Lol, I forgot you even text like a posh git  
 **Arthur:** Shut up Gwaine  
 **not gwaine:** Not on your life, I’ve missed this  
 **Gwen:** Arthur, Merlin says you’ve been gardening, send pictures!  
 **Arthur:** Sure, I’ll take some after dinner  
 **Gwen:** Thanks! I’ll send some pictures of my tomato plant too, it’s getting so big!

 _Wed, 24 Jul, 8:00 PM_  
 **Percival:** Wait…  
 **Percival:** Am I seriously in a groupchat with the Prince of Wales?

To: apendragon@gmail.com  
From: merlin.emrys@gmail.com  
Subject: good :)  
 _Sent 28 July, 2019_

one: I’ve been told to tell you that mum says hi, so: mum says hi. there. i’ve done it. filial duties accomplished.

two: i’m glad to hear that talking to leon and morgana went well. and i’m assuming that her quitting is good thing so i’m glad about that too. honestly, aside from the bombshell about your mum and the huge row with your father it sounds like you’re doing really well? and like. those aren’t exactly small things or anything, but i’m honestly happy for you. and i know i’ve held off saying anything about this and i don’t want it to come across as patronizing or anything but the fact that you seem to be like… competent on your own is great. seriously arthur, good on you.

things with my dad are going well. we have lunch most days, we started by going to the pub but now i’ll just make something and he’ll make something and we’ll meet up in the park usually. he’s been telling me a bit about when he was a kid and his time at uni. apparently his dad also studied raptors, and he more or less grew up knowing this is what he’d want to do. i’ve told him a lot about camelot and my plans for grad school (still waiting to hear from king’s college— that’s the one i applied to kinda late— if i don’t soon i’ll just accept one of the other offers, probably york) and about the others and stuff. i got will to come to lunch the other day and they talked about whittling and will got to natter about carpentry a bit. (i keep telling him he should get an apprenticeship or something, i think me going to a different city might be the thing that does it).

oh and balinor knows about you, by the way. not details, but i did mention that we used to date and now we’re friends.

other than that… i dunno. you’ve seen the groupchat, i don’t need to update you on the others any more. i liked the pictures of the roses you sent, by the way. will showed them to mum and she loved them, she’s got questions about what kind of fertilizer you use and how you keep off aphids. i told her you had trouble with them earlier, i dunno if they’re still a concern…? i’m sure she’d love to hear about it, i can pass stuff along if you’ve got any tips. Or maybe it’ll be easier to just give you her number so I don’t have to be a go-between for hellos and gardening advice…

anyway, things are good. I’m probably gonna stay here until i’ve got to leave for school. i’ve let will know. he’s still saying he’ll stay as long as i do, but i don’t think he wanted to stay that long so I might just force him to go back at the start of august or something. he’s getting restless. he stole a bunch of cherries off the tree in mr. simmons’ front yard this morning and mr. simmons chased him halfway down main street. it’s not like that’s anything new but it’s a bit much at 20, yknow?

i hope you’re doing alright and figuring things out. oh, and tell me how that stew you mentioned over text turns out. i’ve got a great bread recipe i can send to go with it if you’re up to the challenge.

m

* * *

The doorbell rang just as Arthur came in from taking sheets off the laundry line. He set the basket down on the kitchen table and shut the back door before walking down the hall to answer. He paused with his hand on the doorknob and took a deep breath before turning the knob and pulling the door open. The tense anticipation in his chest dissolved once he saw Morgana standing on the other side.

“Morgana.”

“Arthur. Sorry, I probably should have called first.”

Arthur shook his head. “No, it’s fine. Here,” he took a step back to let her past him, “come in.”

She stepped inside and Arthur closed the door behind her. Taking a deep breath she looked at him directly in the eye. “I’ve come to say goodbye.”

“Already? I thought you still had a few weeks?”

“No, actually. I’ve got things set up for everyone and they’ve got a likely candidate for my replacement. I have to be available for anything they need from me, but other than that I’m free to go.”

“That’s… sudden.” Arthur said slowly. “Congratulations though, here, let’s sit down.”

Morgana followed him into the lounge and arranged herself in an armchair opposite the couch. Arthur stayed standing.

“Can I get you anything? Tea?”

Morgana shook her head. “I’m alright, thank you.”

Arthur lowered himself onto the couch. “So how are you feeling?”

“Ohhhh god…” Morgana leant back in the chair, letting out a shaky laugh. “Is it cheating to say it’s complicated?”

“Yes. Try for something specific.”

Morgana scrunched up her face at him and Arthur laughed.

“Like you’d do any better,” she sniffed.

Morgana sighed, bringing one hand up and slowly pushing it through her hair. “Well, I want it to be as simple as I’m leaving and that’s a good thing, but it’s not, is it? I’m walking away from Uther, which means leaving behind the cold looks and the perennial disappointment and the way he _still_ manages to make me feel terrible about myself…” She took a breath, steadying herself. “But the past week all I’ve been able to think about is the way he used to be when we were kids. And I _know_ that doesn’t change anything, and that he was quite frequently awful even back then, but…”

Arthur looked away from her, down at where his hands are clasped in his lap, more tightly than he realized. He makes himself relax his grip. “I keep thinking about playing chess with him,” he told her, his voice quiet. “Him teaching me, showing me strategies…”

“He taught me to ride,” Morgana said, similarly soft-spoken. “The first Christmas after my parents died, while we were all at Sandringham. He didn’t pay for riding lessons, either, he taught me himself. And he came to all of my competitions.”

Arthur snorted, involuntarily. “Sorry, just. He came to _four_ of my fencing meets. He always told me he’d give me tips sometime, spend some time teaching me or even just sparring, but he never seemed to make the time. Didn’t stop him from telling me I all the ways I’d let opportunities slip in my bouts when he did come.”

“Well, that’s Uther for you. It took me until secondary school to realize, but half the things he’d say to me were implying I hadn’t done _quite_ enough.”

“That or comparing us to each other,” Arthur added darkly.

Morgana looked down. “I wish I’d said something to him when he did that. You always came off worse, and it’s not— It made me feel awful, like I was inflating his already high standards. I was barely older than you were it’s not my _fault_ , but I still want to apologize.”

“Don’t, Morgana… I mean, thank you,” a lump rose in Arthur’s throat and he swallowed. “Really, I— It means a lot. That you’d say that. But you can’t expect yourself to have realized, or to have stopped him.”

“I did realize though, on some level.”

“And so did I. By your reasoning I could have said something just as easily as you could have. Being two years older doesn’t mean you’d have any more luck changing his actions.”

“I know…” Morgana sighed. “God, Arthur, of course I know that, but…”

“But,” Arthur repeated.

Both of them lapsed into silence, neither looking at the other.

“Where will you go?” Arthur asked at length.

“I don’t know… I think I’ll stay with Morgause at first, it’s been a while since we’ve seen each other and she’s offered… After that, I don’t know. Move back to Ireland?”

“Would you really?”

“I have no idea,” Morgana said. “I haven’t been back in ages, and I barely remember living there, I was _eight_.” She sighed. “I’ll have to look for work eventually, but that shouldn’t be too bad. I’ve got some friends from uni I can talk to, and my connections from work.”

“I’m happy for you.” Arthur stood up, moving forward and putting a hand on her shoulder. “Make sure you keep in touch.”

Morgana smiled. “I will.” Without warning, she surged up and pulled him into a tight hug. “Take care of yourself, okay?” she said over his shoulder.

Arthur swallowed, overwhelmed by the sudden contact. He couldn’t remember the last time he and Morgana had hugged. Had it happened when either of them came out? When he left for the start of his first year at Eton? Or was it really as far back as her parents’ funeral, when he’d barely understood what was happening but had seen her tears and reached for her in a clumsy, unfamiliar attempt at comfort. Slowly, Arthur brought his arms up, returning Morgana’s hug. He nodded stiffly against her shoulder.

“You too.” The words came out scratchy, muscling their way past a lump in his throat.

Morgana gave him a slight squeeze and stepped back, her eyes misty. She brushed her hair back from her face and looked up at his ceiling, blinking. “Ugh, sorry.”

“There’s no need to apologize. Should I get a tissue?”

Morgana shook her head. “No. Thank you.” She sniffed and looked at him. “Don’t hesitate to call if you need any help figuring out your side of…” she gestured broadly to indicated their conversation, “ _this_. The occupational hazards of being raised by Uther Pendragon.”

Arthur smiled. “Of course.”

Morgana returned his smile, her eyes still watery. “And thank you, Arthur.”

The house felt quiet, after Morgana left. Quiet and empty. Arthur went back to the lounge and sunk slowly onto the couch, staring out the window. He felt restless, but in an undirected way that just compounded the stress and nerves his conversation with Morgana had brought up. It was the same feeling he always encountered after talking about Uther and the finer points of his parenting, but it still caught Arthur off guard. He never seemed to realize in the moment how he’d react, and more than anything it just made him feel stupid whenever it happened.

Arthur closed his eyes and leant back, breathing deeply. It didn’t do much, but he shoved aside the part of his brain expecting it to miraculously clear up all his concerns and stuck it out for another few breaths. Eventually, he was able to tamp down enough of the tense energy in his chest to direct it to action, and he spent the rest of the afternoon folding the laundry, weeding the garden, and teaching himself to deep clean the kitchen with the help of several household blogs. By the time evening arrived, Arthur was close enough to feeling better to actually relax with his dinner and enjoy what was quickly becoming one of his favourite parts of the day.

Eating alone still felt new. Not that he hadn’t eaten alone in the past, technically. But that had been different, and this was the first time in his life that Arthur had been reliably responsible for his own meals, from grocery shopping to doing the dishes and every step in between. Even his last time at the cottage didn’t feel quite the same. He’d made a point of doing some cooking, but Leon had still been helping him with most of it and doing the shopping.

Arthur scraped his spoon around the inside of his bowl, getting the last of the stew. He knew this couldn’t last. Naïvely, he liked to think that he could just sink into obscurity with his garden and his books, and a small town where people didn’t covertly take pictures of him (or at least they hadn’t yet). But he wasn’t naïve. If nothing else, that plan would rely on his bank account not running out of money to sustain his grocery and gardening supply purchases and a voice in the back of his mind that sounded suspiciously like Will’s was asking him where he thought that money would come from. Not to mention that Arthur fully expected Uther to cut him off any day now. Even if his current reprieve wasn’t permanent, Arthur wanted to think that life could still look like this, if he could just find the way to make it happen.

* * *

To: merlin.emrys@gmail.com  
From: apendragon@gmail.com  
Subject: wait, which King’s College?  
 _Sent 30 July, 2019_

Merlin,

I don’t think I’m quite up to bread yet. Maybe eventually, but for now I think I should stay away from baking. I’m glad to hear that things are going well with you. I’m really glad that Will’s warming up to him, too. I know how much his opinion means to you. It was good to hear a bit about your mum as well, I didn’t know she gardened. Tell her I say hi back, and I’m including a few links to the sites I found most useful for dealing with aphids. I don’t know if it’ll actually be the best advice? Honestly, I just sort of tried things until I found one that worked, but it was good enough that they’ve stayed away so it should at least do something for her.

Morgana’s left the palace. Officially, I mean, I know I’ve mentioned her quitting. She came to say goodbye. It was nice to see her. Our conversation was… Well, I’m glad we had it but I’m not really sure how to describe it. We talked about Uther and that’s never been an easy subject. She’ll be staying with Morgause for a while, but she’s still working on a plan beyond that. Which… well. Let’s just say I can relate.

I mean, you’re right (and don’t worry, you didn’t come across as patronizing), I am doing well on my own. I’ve been enjoying it more than I thought I would, and not for the novelty. I genuinely like living on my own, properly I mean, and I like having the chance to think. Even if it does feel a little bit like I’ve only managed to outwit real life for a brief period of time. But at least when it catches up to me I’ll have half a shot at being ready.

Let me know if you’ve got the time for another call. It would be nice to talk if you want.

Arthur

* * *

Balinor was teaching Merlin to make fly fishing lures. Merlin’d had his reservations when Balinor suggested it— he didn’t have a problem eating fish but he didn’t really see how tearing into the roof of their mouths with a metal hook only to toss them back in half the time was the best way to catch them— but Balinor had explained that he didn’t actually do any fishing himself, he just found the process of making flies calming in the same way he did wood carving. Merlin found, after a lot of struggling, that he agreed. There was a meditative aspect to focusing on tying the parts together and figuring out the best way to arrange the materials. It reminded him of building model castles with Gaius when he was a kid.

Balinor glanced up from the lure he was working on and surveyed Merlin’s work. “Careful, make sure you’re holding it steady.”  
Merlin kept his eyes firmly on the lure, his tongue poking through his teeth as he pulled on the thin thread to secure a bead in place. He gave it a last tug and then snipped the extra off, leaning back.

“Nicely done.” Balinor nodded.

“Thanks.” Merlin smiled.

Balinor looked back down and asked, “So how’ve you been? Anything new going on?”

“Uh, I got an interview with a Master’s program I applied to, actually.” Merlin told him, trying to make it sound like opening the email from King’s College hadn’t been simultaneously the most exciting and nerve-wracking experience he’d had involving his inbox since April.

“That’s wonderful.”

“Yeah, it’d be my first choice if I get it.” Merlin picked up the various discarded bits of fly making supplies on the table around his finished lure and dropped the handful of wire sting and feathers into the garbage next to him. “Which is weird to say given how late I applied but, er, yeah. Procrastinating.”

“When’s the interview?” Balinor asked him, looking up as he affixed a feather to his lure.

“Two weeks. They said they can do it over the phone or in person, I’ve just got to let them know which by Friday.” Merlin watched as Balinor continues to steadily work on his lure.

“What school is it?”

“King’s College London. They’ve got a really excellent Medieval Studies department, Mum’s uncle— Gaius— knows one of the profs there.”

Balinor paused in his work and looked up. “How is Gaius these days?”

“You’ve met him?”

“When I was living here, yes.”

“Er, he’s alright,” Merlin said. “He’d retired now, still living in London. He comes to see us most years at Christmas.”

“Good. I’m glad he’s well.” Balinor looked back down at the lure. “So you’ll be going to London in the fall, then?”

“Yeah. Well, if I get in that is. Otherwise I’ll probably be going to York.” Merlin looked down, fiddling with his finished lure self consciously.

“Like I said I’ve sort of left things last minute.”

“Hmm.”

Balinor was quiet for a long moment, carefully putting the finishing touches on his elaborate lure. Eventually he snipped a final thread and sat back in his chair.

“Well, I’m proud of you,” he announced after a beat. “I know that probably doesn’t mean much from me, but I’m glad you’re going after what you want to do. It’s not always easy to figure out what that is, and even when you do it takes a lot of courage to make it happen.”

It took Merlin a second to find his voice. “Thanks,” he managed eventually. “Er, that… Yeah. Thanks.”

Balinor gave him the same small smile Merlin had gotten used to, the one that never quite managed to dispel the melancholy lurking around his eyes.

Merlin coughed, looking back down at the table. “Er— Could I… I mean, I was wondering if maybe I could ask you about when you did that. Followed what you wanted to do, I mean.”

“Ah.” Balinor nodded knowingly. “When I left Ealdor, you mean.”

“Yeah,” Merlin’s smile was more of an awkward wince, an attempt at making the whole thing seem a little less serious.

“Well,” Balinor said on a sigh, pushing back his chair and sweeping the detritus from his own workspace into his hand. He tipped it into the garbage and dusted off his hands before putting his forearms on the table and looking back to Merlin. “There was always the chance I might leave. I knew when I came here that I’d more than likely be moving on and I didn’t expect to meet anyone like your mother.” He looked down at his hands. “Understand, I’m not saying this to try and ask you or Hunith to forgive me for any hurt that I’ve caused by not being a part of your lives, just… giving you some context.”

Merlin nodded.

“I think she knew. In some way, that she couldn’t expect anything serious from me, I don’t think I meant to give her the impression I didn’t care for her, but maybe I did. I’ve thought about it a lot, and I can’t quite say. Anyway, a job position came up and so we had a choice. We’re both stubborn people Merlin,” Balinor told him, looking up from under his thick eyebrows. “Neither of us wanted to be the one to suggest we give what we had a shot at lasting. I wouldn’t ask her to come with me and she wouldn’t ask me to stay, and neither of us was about to offer either option if we didn’t think the other wanted it. It was a conversation we couldn’t have and it festered. I’m not sure you know how what I mean by that yet, but unless you’re very lucky you probably will someday. By a week after I got the offer we were barely talking to each other.” He sighed, sitting back in his chair and running a hand through his hair. “So I went. It was everything I wanted to be doing and I didn’t have a strong enough reason to say no.”

Merlin swallowed. “And, er, did you…”

“I didn’t know she was pregnant,” Balinor preempted Merlin’s question. “From what she’s told me neither did she.”

Merlin nodded slowly, considering this information, and how Balinor presented it. “Thanks,” he said at last. “For telling me. Mum… She doesn’t talk about it much, but even if she did I would’ve wanted your side of the story.”

“Ah.” A brief look of amusement flashed over Balinor’s face. “Well, I’m sorry she hasn’t told you much about us, but I can understand her reasons for not doing so. I was a much younger man, and if I’d have known better I wouldn’t have done what I did. I spent a long time feeling guilty about how things ended between us.”

“But you don’t anymore?” Merlin asked.

Balinor sighed again, looking tired. “I do and I don’t. I can see how and why what I did hurt Hunith, and I can recognize where I’d do things differently now, and that doesn’t make any of it alright—” He let out a slow breath. “But I’m done kicking myself for it. All I can do is hope I’m being better now.”

Merlin came in the front door quietly, shutting it as softly as he could. Hunith came around the corner of the doorway from the hall just as he finished taking off his shoes.

“There you are, I thought I heard you come in. How was your afternoon?”

“Fine.” Merlin straightened up, sticking his hands in his pockets.

Hunith frowned. “Are you sure? You look like you’ve got something on your mind.”

“Yeah, really, it went really well. Just that…” he looked down, “I, uh, I asked him about when he left.” Merlin looked up slowly, trying to gauge his mother’s reaction.

“Oh,” Hunith said, lifting her eyebrows with a slight smile. “Why don’t we go to the lounge?”

Hunith led the way, Merlin shuffling after her. She sat down on the couch and he took the empty space next to her. Hunith crossed one leg over the other and turned to look at him, propping one arm up on the back of the couch and supporting her head with her hand.

“So,” she said, “do you have any questions?”

Merlin frowned. “You’re not going to ask what he said about it?”

“No, I’m not. Because I trust him, and more importantly, I don’t want you to think that you have to tell me everything the two of you talk about. If you want to share anything, you’re more than welcome to, but I suspect it won’t be anything particularly new.”

“Makes sense,” Merlin said quietly, nodding.

“So,” his mum repeated, prodding him gently with her free hand. “Any questions?”

“I guess… Have you forgiven him? Or, I don’t know. Did you ever blame him to begin with?”

Hunith took a deep breath, and let it out slowly, looking out into the room. “Well. You’re certainly getting right to the heart of things aren’t you.” She looked up towards the ceiling, lifting her head from her hand and pushing her hair back slowly. “Well,” she said at last, “I do think I blamed him. Not when he first left— I was far too busy telling myself I never expected anything else and I had no reason to be affected by it. No, it took a little bit of time for me to start blaming him. Around the time I realized I didn’t have any quick way of getting in touch with him even if I wanted, and I wasn’t sure I did, mark you… And then again when I realized I was pregnant with you.” Hunith laughed a little. “God, I remember ranting about him to Will’s mum how _little_ I cared about Balinor McAneany, how I’d been expecting it all along and he’d never really meant anything to me to begin with. I was so _angry_.” She laughed again, harder.

Her laughter filled the room for a moment. Slowly trailed off, shaking her head. Seeing Merlin’s confused expression she clarified, “I was angry at myself. For letting myself care about someone.” Hunith sighed. “So yes, to answer your question— and I know it’s been a very long answer— I did blame him for a time. And yes, I’ve forgiven him. And I certainly hope I’ve gotten to the point where I’m not mad at myself for needing other people.”

“Thanks.” Merlin said. “That… makes a lot of sense, actually.”

It made too much sense, in a way, as both she and Balinor had explained it.

Hunith nodded. “Glad I could help. I’m sorry that I haven’t told you much about it before.”

“It’s alright.”

“Still. If you’ve got any more questions, I’ll happily answer them.”

“I think I’m good for now.” Merlin told her. Grinning, he added,“So does this mean you’ll finally admit you’ve got an online dating profile?”

“No, I won’t, because I certainly haven’t and even if I did you wouldn’t need to know about it until I actually managed to meet someone halfway worthwhile with it anyway.” She smiled at him. “Now come on, why don’t you help me get dinner going.”

* * *

 _Thurs, Aug 1, 10:43 PM_  
 **Merlin:** Will’s decided to take over the lounge with constructing a lego set he ordered the other day and I can’t decide if I should mock him or bring him snacks and give moral support  
 **Arthur:** Both  
 **Arthur:** Also, I painted the shutters today, what do you think?  
 _IMG_1027_  
 _IMG_1028_  
 **Merlin:** Nice. The green looks nice with the brick  
 **Arthur:** I’m going to do the trim soon, too  
 **Arthur:** And I finally managed to figure out how to fold a fitted sheet properly  
 **Merlin:** Oh really? I thought you said that was sorcery  
 **Arthur:** I’m still not convinced your way of doing it isn’t, the video I found was much more straightforward.  
 **Arthur:** How’ve you been?

Arthur was taken off guard by his phone ringing. More specifically, he was taken off guard by the photo of himself and Merlin that suddenly filled the screen, obscuring their text exchange. Merlin was grinning at the camera, Arthur behind him with his chin resting on Merlin’s shoulder. He’d never changed Merlin’s picture in his contacts and seeing it felt like being shoved, forcefully, back in time. The phone was still ringing, and Arthur shook himself, jabbing his thumb at the answer button and bringing it up to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Hey,” Merlin responded. “Sorry, I probably should have asked if it was a good time to talk, I was just trying to figure out what to say about how things have been and I realized that it would probably just be easier to talk and you did suggest a phone call, so…” He trailed off weakly. “Yeah. Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Arthur answered, shifting his position. “Really.” He’d been sitting on the couch, reading— or at least half reading and half texting Merlin, and now he shut his book and tossed it onto the coffee table, stretching out so he was lying down. “So how have you been?” he asked.

Merlin let out a long sigh. “Er, _well_ , I talked to both my parents about the end of their relationship yesterday.”

“Oh.” Arthur wasn’t really sure what to say. “And?”

“I don’t know. It was… strange. Mum and I never talked about it much before.”

“Why not?”

Melin sighed. “Um. I never asked? And there was a lot of other stuff going on, it wasn’t really the biggest thing she was dealing with when I was little.”

“Other stuff?”

Merlin didn’t say anything and Arthur lifter the phone from his ear to check the call was still going.

“Merlin?”

“Yeah, sorry just…” Merlin paused again. “So, you know about Will’s parents, yeah?”

Arthur adjusted his position a little, sinking further into the couch. “I know they passed when he was younger. He grew up with his aunt and uncle, didn’t he?”

“Yeah. Um. And, you know about mum’s job?”

Arthur frowned. He couldn’t tell from Merlin’s tone where he was going. “She’s an accountant.”

“Right. Only, she wasn’t for a while. She actually had a really hard time getting a job for a lot of when I was a kid. Or, you know, a _good_ job. We almost lost the house at one point— we only had it ‘cause it was my grandparents and she inherited it. And I don’t know, Ealdor’s not really the picture of a thriving community. Don’t get me wrong, I love it, but… yeah.” Merlin’s voice sounded constrained, tense, and Arthur found himself wishing he could see him.

“I see,” he said slowly.

Merlin let out a long breath. “You see?”

“Sorry, that’s— I’m just realizing how little I knew about your hometown.”

“Well, I can tell you more sometime. If you want.”

“Sure. You know more that enough about Buckingham at this point.”

Merlin snorted. “And I’ve never even seen it.”

Arthur grinned. “Eh, I wouldn’t be too fussed about it, honestly. It’s not all that great.”

Merlin laughed at that, making Arthur’s grin widen. Letting out a long breath, Merlin said, “You know, the strangest part of talking to Mum was that it didn’t feel like talking to a parent, really. It’s weird to realize the conversations we have with each other are changing, sort of.”

“I can imagine.”

“You can?” Merlin asked.

“I guess not,” Arthur admitted. “But I understand, I think, and I can imagine that someone who wasn’t in my situation would be able to relate.”

“How’re you doing with that?” Merlin sounded a little uncertain. “You sort of implied, in your email, that you and Morgana were talking about it?”

“About Uther never being much of a father?” Arthur failed at sounding cavalier. “It’s not news. It just… takes time to see all of it and stop making excuses.”

“That’s not really an answer.”

“I know.” Arthur dragged his hand down his face, staring up at the tin ceiling tiles. “I don’t want to get into it now, it takes a lot to talk about him. How are things, aside from the conversations with your parents?”

“Well, I’m no longer working,” Merlin said on a sigh. “I had a call with Geoffrey to talk about it and since I’m not planning on coming back to Camelot I’m just gonna leave my job now.”

“That’s too bad.”

Merlin made a kind of equivocal noise, like he was shrugging off Arthur’s concern. “I suggested it. And I’ll make up the difference doing some serving at the pub.”

“Still,” Arthur said, switching his phone to the other ear and tucking his free arm under his head, “it sounded like you were enjoying it.”

“Yeah, but I’ll have other chances to do stuff like it. I hope I will, at least. It was really nice to be doing something that actually involved what I want to be doing. I know it’s all but useless in however people normally define the real world, but I really do love learning about it and it’s what I want to be doing. Not— I mean, not specifically what I was doing before, necessarily, but working with the stuff I’m studying…” Merlin sighed. “Anything new going on with you?”

“I think I’m going to abdicate.”

Arthur didn’t realize he was going to say it until the words were already out of his mouth. Merlin didn’t say anything, and Arthur stayed still waiting to see how he would respond. The room was dark except for the warm pool of light from the lamp next to the couch. Outside the window there were the faint sounds of the woods at night. After what felt like a long time, Arthur heard a small rustle from Merlin’s end.

“What?”

“I just… I can’t do this. I can’t keep _being_ prince like it’s the only thing I’m good for, it’s too much.”

“Arthur…” He heard Merlin exhale slowly, then swallow. “If—”

“No, listen,” Arthur interrupted him. “I know that I’ve had a fight with Uther and you think… You think I’m running away but I have actually been thinking about it beyond just ‘oh I’m so tired of being rich and powerful it’s so tiring’ or whatever it is you think goes on in my brain.”  
Merlin laughed and it sparked something warm in Arthur’s chest. He felt himself smile in spite of himself.

“Well,” Merlin said, “you said it not me.”

Arthur laughed softly.

“So,” there was another rustle from Merlin’s end, “you want to abdicate.”

“Yes,” Arthur answered, trying to quell the nervousness that rose up in his stomach when he did.

“Have you told anyone else?”

“No. Well, Morgana might have guessed, given how she is, but you’re the first.” Arthur sighed and screwed up his face. “I don’t think it will happen any time soon, I have to figure out who I even talk to about relinquishing the crown’s property and whether I can even ensure that no one succeeds me without talking to every distantly related member of the peerage personally and I might not even be able to do any of this while Uther’s still king, but—”

“Wait.” Merlin cut him off. His voice sounded strange, but Arthur couldn’t quite pin down why. “You’re actually _fully_ going through with this.”

“What did you think I was doing?”

“I don’t know, just… rejecting your claim to the crown and giving up your fortune. Not… Ending the monarchy.”

“You know me Merlin, I don’t do things by halves.”

Merlin let out a breathy laugh. “No, I guess not.”

Arthur didn’t say anything, just listening to the ambient sounds of the house and the soft white noise of an open phone line.

“So you end the monarchy,” Merlin prompted after a moment, and the way he said it Arthur knows he’s smiling. “And then what?”

Arthur groaned. “I don’t know. I’ve been thinking about it, almost constantly really. I just feel… I feel like I’ve been moving towards this one thing and I didn’t have to worry about thinking about what else I might want— I _couldn’t_ worry about it if I wanted to. And now that that’s gone…” He stared up at the ceiling, trying to find the words for what he wanted to say. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I’m glad I’m not stuck in that path, but I’m also totally lost. I feel like I’m both totally incapable and ludicrously free and it’s terrifying and incredible all at once and I just— I don’t know. I’m totally at a loss as to what happens now.”

“Welcome to being in your twenties,” Merlin said, laughed. He added, “Why do you think I’m applying for grad school? It gives me a chance to just sort of… kick figuring out what I’m doing down the road a bit.”

Arthur took his arm out from under his head and rolled over onto his side so he was facing out towards the darkened windows. “Have you got any ideas about what you’d like to do? Even vague ones?”

“I don’t know… Teach is the obvious answer, but if I’m being honest I’m more interested in doing that outside of a typical school setting. I also don’t know that I’d be that good at it.”

“Right, but ignoring that. Would you want to? If you could do it however you wanted, school or elsewhere.”

“Yeah, maybe. I’ve thought about museums, you know? How sometimes they’ll have workshops for kids or show around school groups… I like the idea of that. Of helping people realize they’re into something they might not have heard about otherwise. And it would mean I’d still probably be doing my own research or working with any manuscripts or artefacts they’ve got, even if it’s just preservation.” There was some noise on Merlin’s end and he let out a huff of breath. “What about you? Don’t think in terms of jobs or anything, just… what do you want now that you can do anything.”

“I want to help people.” Arthur reached out, absently straightening his book so it was square with the corner of the coffee table. “I know that’s vague, but… I don’t want people to be able to take advantage of others and I don’t want to be a part of upholding injustice. I spent too long not thinking about my part in that. Not using the sway I have.”

“You know, you should really talk to Will sometime,” Merlin told him. “If you both managed to swallow your pride I feel like you’d actually be able to have some good conversations. He’d have a lot of stuff you’d probably be interested in hearing.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

They both lapsed into silence. Arthur could see the first stars appearing above the dark shapes of the trees outside the window.

“I want to live in the country,” Merlin said, breaking the silence. “If we’re talking about the future, I mean. I living in Camelot was great, and I won’t mind being in a city for the next few years, but I forgot how much I loved Ealdor. I don’t think I’ll end up moving back, but I don’t want to be stuck in cities forever.”

“I think I want to live here,” Arthur told him, still looking out the window. “I’ll probably have to go back to London eventually once I finally gather the courage to talk to start working out abdicating, but after that I want to come back. It’s not just this house, I’m getting to know the town and the people here and I like it. You can see the stars.”

“Hmm,” Merlin hummed in agreement. “I want to be near my friends still. Or at least close enough to visit them often. And I want to keep bees.”

“Bees are nice.” Arthur rolled back onto his back, looking up at the circle of the ceiling lit up by the lamp. “They’re good for plants.” He yawned. “I want to be able to keep working on the garden. Maybe add herbs, vegetables…”

“Tomatoes are easy. So’re carrots, I think, and basil. You just need a lot of light to get them started.” Merlin yawned too. “You know what else I want? A library. Or, at least a study with room for enough shelves for lots of books. And a nice guest room for Will so he can come visit whenever he wants.”

“I’d like that for Morgana. I don’t want us to drift apart again.”

“Honestly, the guest room could be for anyone. Gwen, Lance, Gwaine… Any friends.”

“I don’t even know how to have friends,” Arthur admitted. “Without school, I mean, or another outside reason to see people regularly. But that’s a nice idea.”

Merlin laughed, a barely perceptible rumble that came through the phone and bounces around Arthur’s head. “You have friends, Arthur. You just have to stop getting in your own way and listen to them when they say they like you.”

“Right, but… then what?” Distantly, Arthur recognized that he was tired. The lounge was warm and dimly lit. Arthur twisted, letting himself sink a little further into the couch.

“Then… You’re friends. You text, or have phone calls, you get together for game nights…”

“Go camping?” Arthur closed his eyes, turning his head to the side and taking his hand away so the phone was balanced on his ear.

Merlin laughed again. “Well, maybe. I was going to say pub quizzes and dinner parties.” He sighed. “I don’t know what else you’re supposed to do as you get older… The same thing but as couples, I guess. I’ve never really seen why that’s the only way people seem to socialize as adults, it seems isolating…”

Arthur listened to Merlin talk, the rise and fall his voice were comforting and familiar. A warmth unfurled a little Arthur’s chest and slowly spread through him. Arthur felt like he was home in a way he hadn’t in a long time, maybe ever. The comfort of the house, the soft domesticity of it, having something that he’d made his own. The reassuring sounds of the woods and the house… Merlin’s voice in his ear.

“Arthur?”

“Hm?” Arthur opened his eyes, blinking. “What was that?”

“Are you falling asleep?”

“I suppose.” He pushed himself up a bit on the couch, yawning. “Sorry, I guess I’m more tired than I realized.”

“Where are you now?”

“On the couch.”

Merlin laughed. “You should go to bed.”

“Yes. I should.”

“You aren’t moving, are you.”

“I will. I’m getting up now.” Arthur’s eyes started to drift shut again.

“Okay. I’m going hang up now.”

“Alright. Night, Merlin.”

Merlin laughed softly. “Good night, dollophead.”

* * *

Arthur woke up on Friday morning with a crick in his neck and a vague feeling that he’d done something incredibly stupid. Rolling his neck slowly, he fumbled for his phone to check the time. His hand connected with it and he felt the bottom of his stomach fall away. Right. Merlin and he had talked. He’d been falling asleep, Merlin… Arthur dropped the phone again, scrubbing his hands over his face. This wasn’t supposed to happen again, they’d only just gotten to being friends, he wasn’t supposed to fuck that up, to repeat history. He’d seen how this ended and it he didn’t want to go there again.

The memory of Merlin’s voice bounced around in his head, calling him a dollophead in the same fond tone Arthur knew from a million tiny moments he’d been doing his best not to think about. It made a beautiful and painful elation swell in his chest. It was too much like before, too familiar, and Arthur hated himself for not realizing what had been happening. He took a deep breath. At least they wouldn’t have to see each other in person. The distance between them suddenly felt like a lifeline. With a sigh, Arthur pushed his hands through his hair and turned his phone over to read Merlin’s text.

_I forgot to mention it but I’ve got an interview with king’s college coming up. So if all goes it looks like I might be in London in the fall… Kinda weird that I’m going there right after you’ve left, but you said you’d probably be going back eventually, right? Maybe we’ll end up getting to see each other_

… Fuck.

By Monday, Arthur had horrifically mangled three new recipes, only mildly bungled another two, watched multiple different videos on how to properly clean and season cast-iron pans (so he could start using the one that was in the kitchen, he told himself firmly, no other reason), and finally figured out how to unfold the ironing board so it actually stayed up. None of that had stopped him thinking about Merlin, but it certainly made it easier to tamp down on the confusing mess of feelings that his thoughts brought up.

Around noon, after taking advantage of his mastery of the ironing board by pressing the two nice shirts he’d brought with him, Arthur went to check the mail. It was about a ten minute walk from the cottage to the mailbox, located where the cottage’s private road met the main one. Arthur made the trip more for the sake of the walk than because he actually expected anything to be there most days, but when he got to the end of the road and looked inside, he found that for once it wasn’t empty. There was postcard lying flat on the bottom. He took it out curiously, looking at the picture, a squat pony in a field with its mane covering its eyes, before turning it over. On the back was a short note in Morgana’s writing.

_Arthur— I hope you’re keeping well. I’m at Morgause’s and enjoying the time off immensely. She sends her love (or something like it). We’ve been talking about going on a trip to the continent for a week or two, I’ll text you any updates if that happens. Give me a call anytime you want to talk._

_Morgana_

Arthur scanned it again, smiling slightly, before turning away from the mailbox and starting back down the tree-lined road. Still looking at the last line, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and found her in his contacts.

“Hello?” Morgana answered.

“I got your postcard,” Arthur said, tucking the item in question into his back pocket.

“I see. And?”

“Thank you. For thinking of me, I mean. And I’m glad to hear your doing well."

“Hm, you have no idea. The time off is a blessing.” Morgana sighed. “Not that it isn’t nice to hear from you, but you didn’t have to call me the second it arrived.” She paused, then added, “Unless you had something specific you wanted to talk about?”

Dammit. Of course she could tell even over the phone that something was bothering him. Arthur stared straight ahead of him, trying to figure out the best way to broach the subject.

“Well?” Morgana prompted.

“I think I’m falling in love with Merlin again.”

Morgana was quiet for a long time.

“Morgana?” Arthur asked. “Did you hear me?”

“Yes, I— You _think_?”

“Not think. I am.” Arthur stopped walking for a second, rubbing his free hand across his jaw. “Maybe not love, but— I’m certainly feeling… something. Romantic.” He let out a long noise halfway between a sigh and a groan. “Oh god, I feel like an asshole.”

Morgana had the audacity to laugh at that. “I’m sorry, Arthur, just— You do realize I am the absolute worst person in your life you could be asking for advice right now?”

Arthur started walking again. “Well, my options are fairly limited. It’s either you or… Well. I was going to say Leon, but I don’t think he’s any better placed for that than you are, and as much as I’d love to think I could talk to Lance or Gwen, I’m not entirely sure I can trust the others not to trick anything I say out of them, despite their best intentions.”

“Alright,” Morgana acquiesced. “Well, I’ve given my disclaimer, what do I need to know about this?”

“I don’t know… I’m supposed to be his friend! It thought— the whole point of reaching out to him was that I wanted to have a clean start. We were friends before, I thought we could actually manage it this time, I didn’t want this! And now he’s going to think that I was just doing all this because I wanted him back.”

“Why?”

Arthur frowned. “Sorry?”

“Why,” Morgana repeated, “would he think that? Why not assume that he’d take you at your word.”

“ _Because_!”

“Because what?”

“Because I already fucked this up once!” The words tear out of him louder than he expected. “I took him for granted, Morgana, I— I never made it clear how serious I was about us, I didn’t listen…” He ran out of steam, suddenly, all the frustration going out of him. “We’ve talked about it,” he said more quietly, “cleared the air. But how am I honestly supposed to expect him to forget about that?”

He stopped again, taking a few slow steps to the edge of the road and sinking down onto a fallen tree, waiting for Morgana’s answer. She took a slow breath, letting it out in a measured stream that crackled past the phone.

“Arthur,” she said at last. “Do you want to get back together with Merlin?”

“He’s not—”

“Ah.” She stopped him. “I’m not asking what you think he thinks or what will happen when you ask him or whatever convoluted assumptions your poor little romance-addled brain comes up with when you’re trying to figure out what to do about a crush. I am asking what, in an ideal world, you would want to happen.”

Arthur didn’t answer right away. He looked down at the ground and thought about the past two months. He thought about first year, about the months when they were dating, and about the glorious and stomach-churning period between developing feelings for each other and the actual start of their relationship.

“Yes,” he said at last, feeling a rush of fear and exhilaration as he did. “I don’t know that I should want that, though,” he added. “And it’s not like I either want a romantic relationship or nothing, I’d quite honestly be happy if we were friends, and I'd _certainly_ rather that than dating if we were just going to break up again right away once all the same reasons.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself, I’m sure if you broke up this time it would be at least partially for new reasons.”

“That doesn’t actually help.”

“Well, what do you want me to say? I can’t guarantee you two will be together forever, I don’t know Merlin well enough to say if he’s changed since you broke up, and I haven’t been there for any conversation you’ve had about what went wrong before. Honestly, my advice begins and ends with telling you to talk to each other.”

“It’s not as simple as that."

“Well, I _did_ tell you I’m not the best person to give you advice.”

Arthur laughed in spite of himself. “Oh, god…” He sighed. “I can’t even believe you’re humouring me as much as you have. Aren’t you supposed to hate me for this?”

It was Morgana’s turn to laugh, with much more genuine amusement than Arthur. “Arthur,” she said, incredulous. “Why on Earth would I hate you?”

“I don’t know, aren’t exes supposed to be able to be friends without this kind of drama? Or at least some exes. Where they still get along and respect each other. I honestly you expected to tell me that I’m playing into amatonormative assumptions or something.”

“Morgause is friends with most of the people she’s dated,” Morgana pointed out. “Well,” she corrected herself. “She and Cenred are… whatever they are, but still. Not to mention Mark still has Tristan and Isolde over during the holidays, and you know what happened there. It’s not like you’ve singlehandedly disproved the possibility.”

“Hm. Fair enough.”

“Look, just talk to Merlin. I’m sure it’ll all work out.”

“Easy for you to say.” Arthur kicked at the ground in front of him, overturning a chunk of gravel embedded in the dirt.

“It’s not actually,” Morgana told him cooly. “Half the time I want to talk to someone about what they mean to me I have to have incredibly challenging conversations for which a framework does not exist and there’s always the chance I’ll be misread as meaning something romantic.” She let out a measured breath and added, “Communication is always hard, Arthur. But it’s worth doing.”  
Arthur sighed again, still kicking at the chunk of gravel. “Yeah…”

Arthur could practically hear the wicked smile in Morgana’s voice as she added, “Also, if you do get back together it would be _hilarious_ and I cannot _wait_ to mercilessly taunt you for falling for the same person twice just because he’s willing to insult you and isn’t cowed by who your father is.”

“Hey! I called for advice not to be judged on my choice of relationships.”

“Please, as your sister and someone teeming with aro cynicism I consider it my job to judge you on your relationships,” she said airily. “Anything else I did at work was just a front.”

“That certainly explains a lot.” Arthur grinned. “Though I’m not sure I’ve given you much to judge, all things considered.”

“Ha!” Morgana barked out a laugh. “You’ve given me _plenty_. Remember Owain when you were at Eton? Or, god, what was her name? The blonde girl you were falling over for no discernible reason.”

“Vivian.” Arthur said, wincing at the memory. “And how did you know out about Owain, you never met him and even I didn’t figure out I’d fancied him until after we’d both left for uni.”

“Neither did I,” Morgana’s smugness was palpable, even over the phone, “but then when you came out I remembered the summer where you kept trying to draw him based on pictures on your phone and put two and two together. Trust me, Arthur, you’re _not_ subtle.”

“I never did that!”

“Yes, you did! I’ve still got the proof somewhere if you need me to go find it.”

“Why on earth would you keep those? They were _terrible_.”

“Blackmail.”

Arthur winced, closing his eyes shut. “I really hate you sometimes.”

“The feeling’s mutual.”

Arthur laughed breathily, pushing himself off the log, and slowly starting down the road again. He walked in silence for a few steps, neither of them saying anything.

“So what are you going to do?” Morgana asked at last.

“I don’t know…” Arthur looked up at the canopy of branches above him. “Think about it more? Keep being his friend. I’ll talk to him eventually if I can figure out what to say and if I need to say it, but I’ve honestly got enough on my plate right now with abdicating and everything.”

“ _What?_ ”

Arthur winced, taking the phone away from his ear at Morgana’s outburst.

“Arthur!” Morgana brought her voice down into a more normal volume. “Why didn’t you open with that? When did this happen?”

“Well, I haven’t actually started any of the process yet,” Arthur told her, somewhat sheepishly. “I only just worked up the nerve to admit it to myself and it was sort of derailed by the whole… Merlin. Thing.” He coughed, then hurried on, “I’m going to call lawyers and whoever today though. Figure our exactly how much of a mess arranging things behind Uther’s back is going to be.”

“Wow.” Morgana, for once, sounded genuinely impressed without any hint of sarcasm. “I’m proud of you, Arthur, that’s really big.”

“Yeah, well,” Arthur shrugged, even though she couldn’t see him. He didn’t feel worth her pride. “I’m not entirely convinced my reasons are good enough to merit that, but it feels like the right thing to do. For me, and in the broader scope of things.”

“It is. I don’t know about on a broader level and I frankly don’t care, this’ll be good for you, Arthur. Really.”

“Thanks.” Her words, and the audible conviction behind them, made a lump rise in his throat. He did his best to ignore it.

“I’ve got to go,” Morgana said suddenly, “Morgause needs my help bringing in groceries. Text me, okay? And we can always talk more later. Let me know if you need help sorting out abdicating, I’ve got connections.”

“I will.” Arther smiled. “Thanks.”

“Good. I love you.”

She tossed out the words like it was something she always said that casually, like it wasn’t something the two of them had spent most of their lives leaving unsaid. The lump in his throat tightened and it took him a second before he was able to speak.

“I love you, too.” The words came out so quiet he’s a little worried Morgana won’t hear.

“I know. Talk soon.”

The phone let out a small beep and she was gone, leaving Arthur alone in the middle of the warm, sun-dappled road.

* * *

To: merlin.emrys@gmail.com  
From: apendragon@gmail.com  
Subject: my brain is running out my ears…  
 _Sent 8 August, 2019_

Merlin,

I started to text you about this about three different times and it kept getting far to long, so I guess it’s back to email. I’m currently up to my elbows in paperwork that the lawyers helping me sent over by courier. They’ll be reaching out to Downing Street at some point (probably further on in this process), and I’m assuming it’ll only get messier and even more daunting from there. Plus we’ve had hours of phone calls on top of all that, too… It turns out abdicating is a lot of work. At least how I’m going about it where I’m also trying to relinquish most to all of the lands our family owns. I’m only three days in and I’m already out of my depth.

One thing that is clear is that keeping this house won’t be nearly as complicated as it might have been. It was in the DuBois family for years, and my mother left it to me in her will so it’s not property of the crown and it’s legally distinct from the estates that the Pendragon side gets revenue from. It means I’ll have to start paying property tax on it, of course, which I don’t do now, but I’ve been looking into what jobs I might be interested in so I think I’ll manage.

It’s a ways off, regardless.

I’d greatly like to say that I think I could persuade Uther to step down, but I don’t think that will ever happen, so the current course of action is just arranging everything so that it’s as easy as possible to take care of everything once the crown passes to me. There might even be a chance that we can put everything in place around him but that would require strong-arming him into it, and despite everything I’d still feel bad doing that to him. Being king means a lot to him, even if it’s not for any good reason.

Other than that I’m not sure I have much to say. I hope things are going well for you, it’s great news about the interview, I’m sure it’ll go well, you’re brilliant at what you do. It’s a little strange to think of you being in London. I suppose I should get used to the idea though.

Sorry about falling asleep the other night, by the way.

Arthur

_Fri, 9 Aug, 2:01 PM_  
 **will says eat the rich:** Merlin’s too busy wearing a hole in the carpet to tell you all but he’s got an interview with King’s College in half an hour  
 **Gwen:** What?? Merlin! You should have said something!  
 **Lance:** Yes, you should have. Congratulations, though!!!  
 **Gwen:** Yes, absolutely. And you’ll do great!! I know it.  
 **not gwaine:** Break a leg, mate, you’ll do fantastic  
 **Percival:** You’ve got this Merlin  
 **will says eat the rich:** See? Told you  
 **Arthur:** Dear god Merlin leave the poor carpet alone, you can talk about this stuff for hours they’ll be lucky to have you  
 **Merlin:** Easy for you to say, you can’t tell the difference between verdigris and malachite and you still call Chaucer Old English  
 **Merlin:** Thanks everyone btw  
 **Arthur:** Both of them are green Merlin, what do you want?  
 **Gwen:** Off topic, but how does everyone feel about me adding Elyan to the chat? That way I don’t have to text him separately whenever there’s a quiz night  
 **not gwaine:** Gwen I’m going to have to insist you add him  
 **Percival:** If you don’t I will  
 **Lance:** Fine by me!  
 **Merlin:** Go for it  
 **will says eat the rich:** Sure, Elyan’s a good bloke  
 **Arthur:** Of course  
 **Gwen:** Great!  
 _Gwen Smith added Elyan Smith to the group._  
 **Arthur:** And I know Chaucer’s middle english, Merlin, I did attend secondary school, but it sends you on the exact same rant each time I get it wrong, it’s very entertaining  
 **Merlin:** Ofc that’s why you do it you prat  
 **Arthur:** You’re fault for being predictable :)  
 _Merlin Ambrose changed Arthur Pendragon’s nickname to Royal Prat_  
 **Merlin Ambrose:** :)  
 _Royal Prat changed Merlin Ambrose’s nickname to vErDiGrIs_  
 **Royal Prat:** :)))))  
 **will says eat the rich:** UGH. Why did I ever agree to let you be re-added…  
 **Elyan:** …  
 **Elyan:** What did I walk into?  
 **not gwaine:** Shut it, this is even better than when they’re in person  
 **Percival:** So this is… normal?  
 **Gwen:** Very much so  
 **Lance:** It’s certainly one way to get Merlin’s mind of the stress  
 **will says eat the rich:** I mean. He *has* stopped pacing  
 _not gwaine changed Percival Fisher’s nickname to a r m s_

* * *

Merlin looked up from his phone to find Will staring at him from where he was sitting on the couch. Merlin had, in fact, stopped pacing, and was now standing in the middle of the carpet. Will had his feet up on the coffee table in front of him, with his arms resting on his knees as he gave Merlin an unimpressed look.

“What?” Merlin asked, smiling uncomfortably.

“How long.”

“How long what?”

Will sighed. “You and Arthur. Are you back together? Or do you just fancy him again.”

“I told you, we’re friends. Nothing romantic.”

“Right.” Will brought his feet up and over onto the couch, stretching out at full length. “So you fancy him. What’d he do to make that happen?”

Merlin tucked his phone into his pocket. He could feel his face heating up and tried to force it to stop. “Look, Will, can this wait until after my interview? I really don’t have the energy for this right now.”

“Yeah, sure.” Will smiled, fake cheerily. “Just as soon as you tell me what happened.”

Merlin turned away from him, looking up at the ceiling and running his hands through his hair as he took a couple steps towards the far wall. “Will…”

“You’re really going to tell me that you’re pulling this shit,” he waved his phone demonstratively, “with the nickname changes and the teasing each other, and it’s not flirting? I’ve been around the two of your enough to know what you’re bloody mating rituals look like.”

“ _Please_ don’t call it that…”

“ _Ambrose_. What. Happened.”

“He’s fucking abdicating.” The words were out of Merlin’s mouth before he could stop himself. “He’s abdicating and he wants to get rid of the monarchy and he’s gardening and he’s learning to do laundry and paint shutters and we actually talked about what went wrong before and… I don’t know, he’s _Arthur_. What am I supposed to feel?”

He looked at Will for a long moment, his heart pounding and feeling pathetic. He’d been very successfully Not Thinking about the way his stomach flipped when he got texts from Arthur, or how reading his emails— the jokes in the subject lines, the wry way he wrote about things that were clearly bothering him— brought a smile to Merlin’s face. The lid had come loose on the box in his head labelled “relationship things: do not touch” and the things inside were starting to slip out.

Will still hadn’t responded to what Merlin said, hadn’t reacted at all really. He was just lying on the couch, levelly returning Merlin’s gaze.

“Well?” Merlin asked him. “Aren’t you supposed to say something?”

“Mate…” Will sat up slowly with a heavy sigh. “You’re fucked.”

“Thanks,” Merlin sighed, rolling his eyes. “That’s great, yeah, really helpful.”

“No, I’m serious, abolishing the monarchy? That’s _very_ sexy of him.”

Merlin shook his head, wincing even as he laughed in spite of himself. “I fucking hate you.”

Will let out a devious cackle, clearly delighting in tormenting Merlin. “Come on, I know you were thinking it.”

“I was not! And it’s ten times worse when you say it.”

“Fine…” Will lifted his hands from the couch. “But you’ve just told me he’s getting rid of possibly his biggest character flaw— though being an entitled arse is up there, he’d better bin that as well— I don’t know what you want me to say here.”

Merlin sighed. He walked over to the couch and sunk down next to Will. “Don’t tell anyone, yeah?”

“Who do you take me for?” Will finally dropped the joking tone. “Just make sure he doesn’t fuck things up again, or I’ll have to kick his ass.”

“I think we both fucked things up the first time, but deal.”

“Good.”

Merlin looked up at the clock again. “I should go get ready.” He stood up. “I think I’m going to change my shirt.”

“Again? That’s like the fifth time!”

“I don’t like the stripes,” Merlin shot over his shoulder as he left the room.

His phone buzzed in his pocket as he started up the stairs and Merlin pulled it out of his pocket once he reached the second floor. It was a text from Arthur, just to him, not the groupchat.

_Good luck. I’m sure you’ll do amazing._

Merlin’s stomach did a little flip and he felt a broad smile split his face. Okay, so Will for sure had a point. He was fucked.

In the moment, Merlin was pretty sure the interview went well. Afterwards, though, he was a ball of nerves and anxious energy. He swung between picking apart every answer he’d given trying to figure out where he’d messed up and what he could have done better, and trying to shove the whole experience to the back of his mind since worrying about it wouldn’t change anything and he’d know when he knew. It had been the same after his other interviews and neither tactic was particularly effective. In an effort to distract himself, he crammed the next two days with as much activity as he could. He spent nearly all of Saturday with Balinor. They went on a hike, then borrowed Hunith’s car to drive to the next town over for dinner. Merlin enjoyed it, and under any other circumstances he’d probably rank it among on of the best days that he’d spent with his father, but the downside of Balinor’s tendency toward silence was that it left Merlin with far too much space to think, and thinking just led to more worrying.

On Sunday Merlin helped his mum with the shopping, made cookies, watched Will finish his lego set, and bothered him into going to the park across the street to play frisbee. On Monday, he tried to clean his room, but he kept losing focus or jumping up to check his phone in case he’d missed a call, and ending up alternating between checking twitter and instagram, scrolling past the same posts and refreshing with an empty hope that something new would turn up as a good enough distraction.

The one benefit of it all was that it made Not Thinking about Arthur a lot easier. Not that Merlin was ignoring him or anything. They still talked in the groupchat and he’d started a response to Arthur’s latest email, but he tried to keep it to a decidedly platonic context. Nothing that could be construed at flirting, minimal teasing, and certainly no opening the “relationship stuff” box. Will hadn’t mentioned anything since Friday. Merlin was immensely grateful for that, at least, and for the chance it gave him to feign normalcy.

There was a rap on his bedroom door and Merlin looked up from mindlessly scrolling. Will stuck his head in, looking around at Merlin’s abandoned progress.

“I see cleaning’s going well. Can I come in?”

“Sure.” Merlin sat up on his bed, turning his phone face down.

Will crossed the room and sat next to Merlin on the bed. “Nervous?”

Merlin laughed. “Unspeakably.”

“Don’t be.”

“Thanks, I hadn’t tried that yet.”

Will scooched himself back on Merlin’s bed so he was leaning against the wall with his legs pulled up in front of him. “Nah, you’ll be fine. You always are.”

“Thanks, Will.” Merlin smiled at him.

“No problem.” Will flashed a smile back at him. After a pause, he said, “I think I’m gonna head back to Camelot.”

“Really?”

Will shrugged. He wasn’t looking at Merlin, his eyes roved over the room instead. “Yeah. I mean, you’re doing alright with Balinor, and you keep telling me to leave… Plus Gilli’s been texting me about a million questions every time he runs the free market, so I should probably get back to help with that…”

“When do you think you’ll leave?” Merlin asked.

“I bought a train ticket for Thursday, actually. So…” Will shifted his position on the bed, fidgeting with a fraying rip in the knee of his jeans.

“Will.” Merlin leaned over and bumped their shoulders together. “You don’t have to feel bad about leaving, I’ve told you I’m alright.”

Will rolled his eyes. “No offence, but you always say that, usually when you’re not.”

“Okay, fine. But I don’t need you to stick around now, Balinor and I are getting along fine.”

“Yeah, I know, why d’you think I’m okay leaving?”

Merlin laughed. “Yeah, fair…” Sobering, he added, “Thanks, though. For coming to begin with. I know you’ve sort of outgrown this place.”

“I dunno about that…”

“Will.”

Will huffed out a breath, hunching his shoulders up. “Alright, yeah. I just feel like I’ve finally figured out what I’m doing in Camelot, yeah? Like, what I want to be doing for a while. And then I come back here and I just reminded of being aimless and angry again.”

“Yeah.” Merlin nodded. “I get it.”

Will sighed. He slid down the wall so he was lying on his back, stretching out his legs as he did so they flopped over the side of the bed. “It’s gonna be weird being in Camelot without you, y’know?”

“I’ll keep in touch,” Merlin told him. “And you’ll have the others.”

Will snorted. “They’re not you.”

“I know.”

They sat next to each other for a while, not talking. It felt so much like when they were kids, when they’d spend days in one of their bedrooms, not talking or doing anything together half the time, just existing in the same space. Merlin’s heart ached from it. He felt too big, all of a sudden. Too tall, like there was too much of him and Will and they were trying to cram themselves back into the spaces their younger selves had occupied. Like they’d somehow found the old refrigerator box they’d once used to make a fort and climbed inside. It had been years since they properly fit, since they’d been the people who’d made those walls, but somehow, they’d managed to squeeze in, to fool themselves just for a while.

Merlin’s phone went off, breaking the silence.

Merlin sat bolt upright, staring at the number on the screen as it as it rang. “Oh god. It’s them. Holy fuck, what do I do?”

“Are you fucking kidding you berk, answer it! Quick!”

“Alright, alright, alright, shut up.” Merlin took a deep breath, his heart pounding in his ears. His mouth tasted tinny and he was about eighty percent sure he was going to throw up. Closing his eyes, he hit the answer button and brought the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

* * *

To: apendragon@gmail.com  
From: merlin.emrys@gmail.com  
Subject: it’s actually more likely to come out your nose  
 _Sent 12 August, 2019_

that does sound like a lot of work, i can’t imagine trying to sort through all that. it’s good that you’ve got a lawyer helping you out. i’m guessing (from the fact that you haven’t put anything in the groupchat) that you don’t want it spread around, but i did mention the whole abdicating thing to will the other day. so yeah. i hope that’s alright?

things are good here. mum’s got a big project at work so she’s pretty busy, but we’re gonna try to do something this weekend. play cards maybe, or a board game. balinor and i went for a hike the other day, that was nice. quiet, but nice. he did tell me a little bit about the different trees and the birds we saw, that was cool.

will’s heading back to camelot in a couple days. one of the people from work, daegal, is gonna take my old room. i already gave will his number and they seem like they’re hitting it off? i can’t quite picture that, honestly since daegal’s really quiet and i’m pretty sure he skipped at least year of secondary school, maybe two, because he’s younger than most people going into their second year at uni, but will says he’s cool so i’m glad that’s going well.

which, uh, brings me to the big news which is that the reason daegal’s gonna be moving into our flat is that… i got into king’s college. just got the call about it. so i guess i’ll be in london for sure.

i don’t suppose there’s any chance you know whether you’ll be there sometime soon?

m

_Wed, Aug 15, 9:30 AM_  
 **Elyan:** HAPPY BIRTHDAY GWEN!!! You’re the best sister ever, can’t wait to for dinner tonight

 _Wed, Aug 15, 9:56 AM_  
 **Lance:** Happy birthday, Gwen. I’ll save the sappy message for your card, but you’re amazing and inspiring I’m so glad to know you

 _Wed, Aug 15, 10:02 AM_  
 **vErDiGrIs:** Aw fuck, I was hoping to be first but I forgot to send something when I got up.  
 **vErDiGrIs:** But happy birthday Gwen!!! Good luck being 22, I hope you do something fun to celebrate!  
 **not gwaine:** I don’t know about you…  
 **a r m s:** no  
 **a r m s:** please  
 **a r m s:** don’t do this  
 **not gwaine:** but i’m feeling 22 B)  
 **Elyan:** Gwaine you promised you wouldn’t…  
 **not gwaine:** yeah well that’s life for you  
 **Lance:** You’re not even 22 yet, though?  
 **not gwaine:** Doesn’t stop how I feel, does it  
 **a r m s:** Anyway, happy birthday Gwen  
 _not gwaine changed Gwen Smith’s nickname to birthday girl_  
 **not gwaine:** Many happy returns of the day, you absolute ray of sunshine. We don’t deserve you  
 **will says eat the rich:** Truer words were never spoken. We should do something this weekend when I’m back in town.  
 **Lance:** Absolutely!  
 **Royal Prat:** Happy birthday, Gwen. Best of luck in the coming year!  
 **birthday girl:** Aww… thanks everyone! I love you all

* * *

Arthur was busy. On top of working his way through his list of things that still needed to be done around the house, he had his work with abdicating, spending an hour or two reading most evenings, and staying in touch with Morgana. Despite all of it, though, Arthur wasn’t anywhere near as drained as he had been in London. On the contrary, having things to do that were determined by no one but himself was incredible. It felt liberating in a way nothing else in his life quite had. As busy as he was, however, he still managed to find time to think about Merlin.

His latest email felt… odd. Not bad, just brief. Arthur tried to chalk it up to the fact that Merlin was probably stressed about school, or busy with spending time with Balinor or Hunith. His messages in the groupchat hadn’t changed much in frequency or quality, nor had how he interacted with Arthur there, though they hadn’t been texting one on one… There was an annoyingly persistent part of Arthur’s brain that told him Merlin had figured it out somehow. That he’d realized that something about how Arthur talked to him had changed and he was trying to pull back before anything happened. Arthur spent several embarrassing hours reading over his own texts and emails, trying to check that he hadn’t crossed any boundaries into something that would have come across as romantic.

The trouble was that he didn’t know. So much of falling for Merlin the first time had been so jumbled up in becoming his friend, in getting to know him and spending time together as part of a group that a lot of what had laid the groundwork for their inside jokes and gestures of affection as a couple had started long before their actual relationship. Arthur wanted a map, he wanted a guide to how to ask out your one-time and possibly current best friend who you’d already broken up with once. He wanted to feel like he could ask Merlin out without feeling like he’d immediately fall back into old patterns, and he wanted to stop feeling like an asshole for what he was feeling.

That line of thinking got him through about a day and a half after the arrival Merlin’s latest email. Late in the afternoon on Wednesday, after spending several hours on the papers he’d gotten from his lawyers, which were dense enough that they had successfully pushed out any other thoughts, Arthur settled into the arm chair in the study to facetime Gwen.

“Hi!” Gwen answered quickly, and her face, smiling broadly, resolved into focus on Arthur’s phone just after her greeting.

“Hi,” Arthur smiled back. “Happy birthday.”

“Thank you! It’s been a pretty uneventful one so far since I had work, but I’ve gotten lots of messages and I’m going out for dinner with Dad and Elyan later. Dad offered to have Lance along too, but Lance said he didn’t want to intrude.” She shook her head. “Not that he would be, but it is nice to spend time with just family.”

Arthur nodded, “Nice. I hope it goes well, where are you going?”

“Oh, um, you know that Italian place on Second? I love their eggplant parmesan and they do a good ravioli that Elyan likes, so it seemed like a good pick.”

“Yeah, I’ve been there a few times. I like their tiramisu.”

“It’s great, isn’t it?” Gwen moved, setting her phone down on something. She was sitting on the end of her couch, leaning on the arm to face him. Arthur could see enough of the room behind her to tell that she’d rearranged the furniture since he’d last been there.

“How’re things otherwise?” he asked. “How’s work?”

Gwen shrugged. “The same. Busy, but not too hectic. A few of the parents of kids I’ve tutored have gotten in touch about hiring me again in the fall, which is good. Other than that, um… Lance and I went to the cinema over the weekend. The film was nothing special, but it was nice to go with him. And I’ve been trying to read _Parable of the Sower_. It’s good, I’m really enjoying it, but I’ve been having trouble finding time. I just finished rereading the Earthsea books and that took me about three months.”

“That’s one thing I’ve been really enjoying about being here,” Arthur said. “I’ve actually got time to read for pleasure. Instead of like when I was still at uni and barely keeping on top of all the readings I had to do for class.”

“Yes.” Gwen nodded with a sort of half-laugh. “That— well, that and money— are the main reasons I’m not sure about doing more school.”  
“You’re thinking of doing more school?”

“Oh, only vaguely. You know, thinking about what I want to do, what needs to happen to get there… I’ve sort of always fancied the idea of being a teacher, and I’ve been thinking about it more lately, but I’d have to work for a few years to save up before applying for teacher training.” There was a faint sound on Gwen’s end and she twisted around. “Sorry, someone’s coming in, I think Elyan’s here early, one sec.”  
She jumped up, leaving Arthur with a view of her empty couch for a minute or two before she came back, Elyan in tow.

“Alright, I’m back.” She sat down on the couch again, picking up her phone as she did so that she could make sure Arthur saw both of them.

“Arthur!” Elyan leaned in, waving at the camera. “Long time, no see. How’ve you been?”

“Pretty good,” Arthur told him. He’d always liked Elyan. He never seemed to register anything strange about his sister being friends with a member of the royal family, and it made talking to him very easy.

“Yeah? I’ve seen your garden pictures, and I know you’re doing some work on that cottage— great job on the shutters, by the way, I loved the colour you chose. Any other projects I should know about?”

“Ah… nothing of note.” In spite of himself, Arthur’s eyes flicked to the stack of papers from his lawyers that he’d been looking at before calling Gwen. “What about you, anything going on?”

“Work, footie, hanging out with people… I’m thinking of teaching myself guitar, maybe. And I just finished making a TARDIS jewelry case out of balsa wood.” He leaned closer to the phone, lowering his voice to a stage whisper, grinning broadly. “But don’t tell Gwen. It’s her present.”

“Hey!” Gwen elbowed her way into the camera’s field of view. “First of all, he told me about that a week ago because he’s _terrible_ with secrets when he’s excited about something he’s doing for someone. Second, this is my birthday call, stop monopolizing it!”

“Fine…” Elyan handed back the phone. “I’m gonna go grab some water.”

“There’s Dr. Pepper in the fridge door, help yourself if you want any,” Gwen called after him. She turned back to Arthur, sighing. “Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be,” Arthur reassured her. “I like Elyan, it’s always nice to talk to him.”

“Good, because I love him and I’m not really that sorry.”

Arthur laughed. “Good.”

“So how have you been?” Gwen asked him, setting her phone down in the same place as before.

Arthur sighed. “Mostly good. Not… Well, it’s complicated, I’m not really sure if I’ve really talked about it, or if Merlin has, but I had a row with Uther, and because of that and some other stuff I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about what I want to do.”

“And?” Gwen prompted.

“Uh, I’m… abdicating.” Arthur felt the same jolt of terrified excitement that he had every time he’s said it out loud. “And hopefully quietly abolishing the monarchy in the process.”

Gwen blinked. “Wow. That’s… Congratulations, I suppose. I don’t know, is that the right thing to say?”

“Er, I don’t really know either, to be honest. But, thanks.”

“How are you feeling?”

Arthur took a deep breath. “Well,” he started, frowning, “I’m glad I’ve made the decision, but it’s just…”

“What?”

“Actually, you’re a good person to ask about this. One of the reasons— not the only one, but one of them— is that it’s not really democratic. Being king, I mean. But I don’t know that choosing to abdicate, to stop anyone else from taking my place, is any less undemocratic, if that makes sense. It’s not like the people voted to have me do this, I’ve just… chosen to. So it’s a matter of whether… Whether making a unilateral, undemocratic decision is justified in the pursuit of making things _more_ democratic in the long run.” Arthur’s gaze had drifted away from the screen during his explanation, and he looked back up at it now. “What do you think?”

Gwen didn’t answer at first. She looked down at the arm of the couch, considering. “I think… I think that I can see points on both sides. I’m just one person and I don’t think I can say any more than you can whether this will for sure be the best thing for the entire country. But you’re right that it will make things more democratic in the long run, and Will’s right that having a monarchy at all is a little bit of a waste of money. Not to mention that I think the fact that you’re worried about it is a good sign about where your heart is.” Gwen frowned, wrinkles creasing the space between her eyebrows. “Does that help at all? It feels sort of like I’m equivocating.”

“Somewhat? It’s alright, though, I know I sort of sprung it on you. Sorry.”

Gwen laughed. “That’s fine. Give me a few days and I can try to have a better answer if you like?”

“Maybe. Don’t feel obligated, though.”

“I don’t, I promise. Have you told anyone else?”

“Melin knows, and Morgana. And Merlin’s said he mentioned it to Will. Feel free to let the others know if you want. I’m not ready for it to be public knowledge, but I trust all of you. I’ll probably say something in the groupchat soon, regardless.”

“Alright.” Gwen smiled at him, then glanced over her shoulder. “I just heard the doorbell, I think Dad’s here.”

“I’ll let you go, then,” Arthur said. “It was nice to talk, enjoy your birthday dinner.”

“Thanks. It was nice talking to you too. We should do this again soon, I’ve missed you.”

Arthur smiled in spite of himself and he wasn’t sure how to respond. “Thanks,” he managed. “I’d like that.”

“Good.” Gwen beamed. “I’ll talk to you later. Bye!”

“Bye.”

Leon arrived at the cottage late on Friday evening. He didn’t give Arthur any warning, no sooner had the sound of tyres on gravel made Arthur look from fiddling with the record player than there was a familiar knock on the door. Arthur took a moment to prepare himself before opening it.

“Leon.” He smiled, not letting any sign that the unexpected nature of the arrival affected him. “It’s good to see you, come in.”

“Arthur,” Leon started, stepping inside and wiping his shoes before taking them off, “I’ve—”

Arthur didn’t let him finish. “Here, I want to show you what I’ve been working on. You know the record player we found back in May?” He walked into the lounge as spoke. “I’ve finally got it all hooked up. Or I think I have at least.”

Leon trailed into the lounge after him, a patiently indulgent look on his face. “Have you?”

“Here, listen.”

Arthur slid an LP carefully out of its sleeve and put it on the turntable. “I had to order new needles online, the one in there was broken— They’re _really_ finicky, it took me forever to figure out replacing it.” He set the needle on the edge of the record and hit the start button. “There.” Arthur stepped back, turning to Leon with a proud smile when the room was filled with the (albeit slightly crackly) sounds of Elvis Costello.

Leon smiled politely in response, nodding. “Arthur—”

“Are you hungry?” Arthur asked, moving towards the kitchen. “I made some soup for dinner, and I finally worked up the nerve to try making bread. The bread was terrible, I had to chuck it, but the soup actually turned out alright, if you’d like some. It’s broccoli and cheese.”

“That sounds lovely, but—”

“Great! I’ll get you some.”

Leon sighed, following Arthur into the kitchen. Arthur made more of a to do about getting a bowl and spoon and ladling the soup out of the pot on the stove than he really needed to. He could feel Leon’s gaze on him and he didn’t want to meet to, didn’t want to acknowledge that he’d come with something to say. Instead, Arthur kept his attention on what he was doing, and kept talking.

“I’m not sure how well you can see it now that it’s night, but I’ve re-painted all the shutters, and I did the porch to match. And the garden’s been doing really well. I’ll show you around in the morning.” He turned around and handed Leon the bowl. “What do you think?”

Leon took the bowl, blowing lightly on his spoonful before bringing it to his mouth. He swallowed, nodding. “Nicely done.”

“Thanks. There’s salt and pepper if you want it.”

“I’m alright.” Leon took a few more spoonfuls, then set the bowl gently on the table. “Arthur.”

Arthur turned away from him abruptly, busying himself with emptying the dish rack. “Did you know that you can make peeling garlic easier by pressing it with the flat of a knife?”

“Arthur, I’m here to bring you back to London.”

Arthur stopped in the middle of opening a cabinet.

“I know,” Leon continued, “and I don’t intend to try and convince you if you’d rather stay here, but there’s only so long you can avoid facing him.”

“Well, I don’t know about that,” Arthur said with a forced lightness. “He doesn’t seem to be interested in coming here anytime soon, and as long as the messengers he sends are as mild as you I think I’ll be able withstand them.”

“I’m not sure that I can guarantee the second point.” Leon’s voice was quiet but firm, and when Arthur turned to look at him his expression was grim.

Arthur sighed. He shut the cabinet again and pulled out a chair from the table, sinking into it heavily. “What did he say, exactly? I assume he had message of some kind for me.”

“He, ah, he said that he’d given you more than enough time to sulk and it was high time that you grew up and came back home.” Leon coughed, his discomfort plain. “I’m not sure he wanted me to pass that on verbatim, however.”

“Hm.” Arthur lifted his eyebrows, considering Uther’s words. “That seems fairly consistent with his typical levels of self-reflection.”

“I… wouldn’t know, sire,” Leon said in a tone that made it clear that he considered it more than his job was worth to agree.

“Well, you can tell him I’m more than happy where I am. If he wants me to come back so badly he should consider actually offering some kind of repentance.”

“I doubt that he’d appreciate hearing that from me.” Leon pulled out the chair opposite Arthur and sat down, pulling the bowl of soup in front of him. He ate a few spoonfuls, then asked, “If I could offer an opinion, sire?”

Arthur waved his hand. “Don’t bother with the sire, it won’t be necessary soon enough anyway.”

“Ah, yes, I had heard about… your plans. I wasn’t sure you’d want to talk about it, though.”

“I don’t. Or at least, not at this moment.” Arthur ran a hand through his hair. “Go ahead, offer your opinion.”

“It might be a good idea to at least consider making an appearance. I’m not expecting you to resume living at court, and I’m certainly not suggesting that you forgive him for whatever happened between you, but it might be… advantageous to not vanish completely from public life while you work on abdicating.”

Arthur considered this. Leon returned to his soup, letting Arthur think. The windows where dark and the house was quiet around them. The kitchen felt like a small, isolated island of warmth, cut off from the rest of the world.

“I don’t know that I can face him.” Arthur said a last. His voice was quiet, and he wondered if Leon could hear the shakiness he was feeling. “Walking out of that room… All I could think was that I was so glad to be free of him, that I wanted to rid myself of him forever. If I see him again… I don’t know what would happen. I don’t know that I trust myself to stand up to him again.”

Leon nodded. “I… can understand that. And I don’t think you should go back if you’re not ready, but if you can…” he looked down at his bowl. “Well, I think it would be good to him to hear someone push back against him, if you’ll excuse me saying so, and with you and the Lady Morgana both gone there’s no one much to do that.”

“Well,” Arthur said with a sigh, leaning back in his chair and looking up at the ceiling, “pushing back against a brick wall gets exhausting. Either you stay and keep beating your hands raw, or you realize that it’s oblivious to your bleeding.”

* * *

To: merlin.emrys@gmail.com  
From: apendragon@gmail.com  
Subject: well then consider my nasal passages deluged with grey matter  
 _Sent 16 August, 2019_

Merlin,

That’s too bad about Will. I’m sure you’ll tell me that you’re glad that he’s going home, and you won’t mind— or that you’d be in different cities soon anyway, but I know you’ll still miss him so I’m sorry. I hope you two can visit each other often.

I’ve been… busy. Pleasantly so, but still. Busy.

Leon came to visit yesterday. He stayed overnight, just went back to London. He was here to pass on a message from Uther, telling me to come back to the palace. He, Leon I mean, didn’t spend much time on that. I spent most of the time showing him the progress I’d made and he came into town with me while I got groceries and picked up some mulch. The man who owns the hardware store, Peter, knows Leon pretty well from all the trips I made him take to get me gardening supplies and it was sort of strange to see them chat. I’ve been getting to know Peter a bit myself, as well as some of the employees at his store, and a few of the people who tend to do their shopping at the same times as I do and it’s been… Nice. I’ll miss that if I leave. I’m not foolish enough to think that no one here has any suspicions about who I am, but so far there hasn’t been any press and no one’s bothered me about it.

I don’t know if I’m going back.

I think I will be, eventually— Leon raised a good point that things will be a lot easier if I’m actually in the same city as everyone I need to work with… But I can’t live in the same place as my father again. I’m not entirely confidant in my abilities to set boundaries between us without a substantial amount of physical distance. That said, I’m fast reaching the point where I just won’t be able to manage setting up things for my abdication remotely. I might go back temporarily, or try to give Uther one last chance to talk. I can always run off to the country again if I need to and it’s not like the whole city has to be tainted by the one man.

And it would be nice to see you in person.

Anyway.

With many unfinished and contradictory thoughts,  
Arthur

To: merlin.emrys@gmail.com  
From: gaius@albionpharmacy.co.uk  
Subject: Moving In  
 _Sent 18 August, 2019_

Merlin,

I’m so glad to hear you got a spot at King’s College! Alice assures me it was nothing to do with me either, you did this all on your own. Congratulations, my boy, I couldn’t be happier for you.

I’m not sure when your semester starts, but let me know when you’re planning on moving in, I’ve already starting clearing out the spare room for you, I’ll be sure to have it done with when you arrive.

Congratulations again, I’m looking forward to having you here.

Love,  
Uncle Gaius

* * *

Merlin got on a train to Camelot a week after seeing Will off. It had been a strangely quiet week, and Merlin had spent most of it going for long walks. It had been one of the strangest summers of his life, and it was even stranger to feel it coming to a close. His walks never took him anywhere in particular, he’d just start walking, wandering the town and the fields around it. Balinor joined him on one of these walks a few days before Merlin left.

Neither of them spoke for the first while, enjoying the fields around them in all their late-summer glory. Eventually, Balinor broke the silence. “So, am I right in guessing you’ve got something you want to talk about?”

“Er, yeah.” Merlin looked down at his feet, sticking his hands in his pockets as he walked. “I, um, I got into that school I had that interview with.”

“Congratulations. I know I wasn’t as lucky to hear back from the schools I applied for, back in the day.”

“Right.” Merlin swallowed. “And, well, I mean, I’d be talking to you about this anyway, because I also got into another school so it’s not like this actually changes things so much as it means I actually have a firm plan, but basically—”

“You’ll be leaving town soon,” Balinor supplied, mercifully bringing Merlin’s rambling to a halt.

“Yeah,” Merlin smiled, “that.”

“I can’t say that it’s much of a surprise.”

Merlin nodded. Taking a breath, he started, “So…”

“What am I planning on doing?”

Merlin nodded again.

Balinor sighed, looking out over the fields around them. “I’ve been thinking of looking for teaching work, actually. I know a few people who I could reach out to, see if there are openings at universities.”

“Really? What about your team?”

Balinor shrugged. “Our work is very long term, I can take a year or two off, people have done it before.” He turned to look at Merlin. “And I’d like to stay in the country. To stay in touch. If you’d like that.”

Merlin smiled again. “That’s… Yeah. Yeah, that would be great.”

“I’m glad.” Balinor’s mouth quirked into one of his rare, melancholy smiles, though it lasted longer than most of the ones Merlin had seen. He looked forward again, glancing down the road before adding, “I, ah, I’m not always the best at keeping up correspondence. But I’ll do my best. I’m very glad to know you, Merlin.”

“Thanks,” Merlin’s smile grew. “That means a lot, really. I, um. I’m glad to know you, too.” He looked at the field to his right. “And that’s alright about keeping in touch. I’ll do my best too, and depending where you end up teaching we can maybe schedule times to visit… We can work it out.”

“That sounds good to me.” Balinor’s voice was still the same gruff tone it always was, but Merlin was getting better at reading him and he could hear the warmth behind the words. “I’m look forward to it.”

The train ride back to Camelot was a familiar one, but Merlin spent most of it staring out the window anyway. He was going to miss Camelot. Mostly he was going to miss his friends, though Gwaine had already been making noise about moving to find a job last time they’d texted, and if Gwen ended up pursuing teacher training she’d probably move too, and Merlin was pretty sure Lance wouldn’t stay in town if it weren’t for the rest of them… It was looking like they’d all be scattered to the winds soon enough. Merlin just hoped they’d all manage to be in the same place again eventually.

Merlin didn’t know what to make of the scene in front of him when he opened the door to his and Will’s flat.

“For the love of— I told you, stop apologizing,” Will was sitting on the couch, gesturing with a pocket knife and talking to Daegal. The coffee table and the floor by their feet was covered in wood shavings. “It’s bloody brilliant and you have every reason to be proud of yourself— Oh.” He broke off, looking up and Merlin standing in the doorway. “Hey, mate. Daegal, say hi to Merlin.”

“Uh, hi.” Daegal, sitting on the couch next to Will and holding what seemed to be a misshapen piece of wood gave Merlin a small wave.

“Merlin, tell Daegal he did a good job on his carved duck.”

Merlin looked at the chunk of wood in Daegal’s hand again, which did— upon closer inspection— at least somewhat resemble a duck.

“Uh… Yeah, great job, Daegal.”

“See? Now stop being so hard on yourself, yeah?”

“Yeah. Thanks.” Daegal gave Merlin a small, self-conscious nod and stood up, a blush creeping up his neck. Muttering something indistinct as he excused himself and disappeared into the kitchen.

“He’s a good kid,” Will remarked, looking after him. Pushing himself off the couch, he walked over towards Merlin. “So how was the train ride?”

Merlin leaned his backpack against the wall and started taking off his boots. “Good, uneventful.” He straightened up. “I let the others know when I got in, so they’ll probably be here soon.”

“Cool.” Will followed as Merlin started heading towards his room. “I haven’t done anything expect change your sheets so Daegal could use your bed. I can guarantee he hasn’t been messing with your stuff though, he’s still too scared to use the toaster without asking.”

“Will…” Merlin shot him a look as he pushed open the door to his room. “What have you been doing?”

“It’s not my fault! I’ve been nice, I swear. We’ve been getting along, actually, he helped out at the free market on Sunday— I convinced him to take a hoodie, too… Mutual aid and all.”

Merlin looked up from where he was pulling out duffle bags and suitcases from under the bed. “That’s great, I’m glad you two are getting on.”

“Yeah,” Will smiled a bit, “he’s alright.”

The doorbell rang then, and Will went to answer it, returning with Gwaine and Percy in tow. Gwen and Lance arrived a few minutes later, bringing Elyan with them, and soon the flat was filled with chatter and laughter as they all caught up and talked over each other and ate pizza. Packing was incidental. It probably would have been more efficient for Merlin just to go around the flat and toss anything he was bringing with him to London into his bags and leave Will to box up the rest of his things, but Merlin preferred the busy and hectic atmosphere. Every few minutes they’d be waylaid by unearthing something or other than reminded them of a story or an inside joke, or just some small part of knowing each other for three years. It was the best way Merlin could think of to say goodbye and to close out this chapter of their lives.

Eventually, they managed to get all of Merlin’s things packed up and sorted into a London pile (all crammed into two duffle bags) and an Ealdor pile (a neat stack of boxes waiting for Hunith to come pick up), and they all packed themselves into the lounge.

“What time’s your train tomorrow?” Gwen asked Merlin from where she was squeezed in between Lance and Elyan on the couch. Percy was on Elyan’s other side, and Gwaine had elected to drape himself across all four of their laps rather than sit on the floor or bring a chair in from the kitchen.

“Ten,” Merlin answered her. “It’s not a long trip, but I wanted to have the afternoon to unpack, you know?”

“Makes sense. I suppose you’ll take the tube Gaius’s?” Gwen winced. “Gwaine, can you please just find a chair? You’re crushing me.”

“Fine…” Gwaine rolled off everyone’s legs, splaying out on the floor. “But only because it wasn’t all that comfortable.”

Merlin, tucked up in an armchair, regarded where Gwaine was lying, cocking his head to one side. “And that is?”

“Not particularly, but I can’t be bothered to move more than this.”

Will snorted. “Here.” He leaned sideways in his chair to chuck a throw pillow at Gwaine.

“Cheers, mate.”

“We should do something,” Elyan announced as Gwaine tucked the pillow under his head. “Watch a film or play a game or something.”

“We’ve got Taboo,” Will volunteered. “It’s been a while since we played that. Or Werewolf? I know we played it last week, but it’s still always a fun time.”

Merlin scrunched up his nose. “I dunno, I don’t really feel like a card game.”

“Watching something then?” Percy suggested.

“How about Mario Kart?” Lance offered. “Though we’d have to trade off who’s playing.”

“Still fun.” Elyan nudged Gwaine with his foot. “Would you be actually willing to move for Mario Kart?”

Gwaine immediately swung up into a seated position. “For the chance to beat all of you? Unquestionably.”

Gwen laughed. “We’ll see about that.”

So they played Mario Kart. At some point, and they ordered more pizza and drank a little too much beer, and by the time Merlin managed to shoo them all out the door so he could get some sleep he was warm all over and his face hurt from laughing. He could feel how much he was going to miss seeing them all like a dull ache inside his chest, and he meant every word of his numerous assurances that he’d stay in touch.

* * *

To: apendragon@gmail.com  
From: merlin.emrys@gmail.com  
Subject: please don’t use the word ‘deluged’ in a sentence about your nose ever again (Draft)  
 _Draft Saved 22 August, 2019_

arthur.  
so i’ve been thinking,  
no that’s horse shit don’t say that it sounds fucking ominous…

arthur, (Arthur? should i capitalize it?? is that weird? does it make is seem important? do i want it to seem important???)  
here’s the thing, i  
god no that’s awful WHAT ARE YOU DOING AMBROSE

so you know how we’ve been talking and you’re, like, working on yourself and sending annoyingly hot selfies of you with your garden where you’re all sweaty and covered in dirt to the group chat and that got away from me this is supposed to be romantic. is it supposed to be romantic? am i just supposed to be informing him of the fact that i’ve got feelings and offer to work on getting over them?????? open and honest communication???????????

ugh. i’m too tired for this i’ll finish it on the train tomorrow

* * *

Arthur told himself that his decision to go London had nothing to do with Merlin. It wasn’t a bad lie, all things considered. He did have real reasons to go, some meetings that could only be put off so much longer, some things he should probably get from the palace, but the fact was that he’d been fully intending to keep putting those off had the groupchat not started filling up with talk about Merlin’s imminent move. Reading the messages, Arthur found himself quietly booking a hotel room and arranging some meetings for the weekend. He didn’t tell Merlin, he had some dignity after all.

Booking the meetings didn’t take long. Neither did packing, telling Morgana, calling Leon, or stopping himself two minutes into a google maps survey of the area around his hotel to look for a suitable place he could theoretically meet Merlin— but Arthur still put off the last thing he had to do until right before he left on Thursday evening. Arthur locked up the cottage, made sure the flower beds were all well watered, and walked to where his car was parked in the shade of a broad oak tree. Tossing his bag into the back seat, he pulled his phone out of his jeans pocket and called George.

The sitting room in Buckingham Palace that Arthur was shown into the next morning was bright and impersonal. The sofas had stiff cushions and the decorations were strategically placed with an eye towards aesthetics rather than because anyone liked having them there. It was one of many rooms like it, and it made it very clear what the tone of the coming conversation was going to be. Arthur didn’t complain. It was a tone that suited his purposes just fine.

“Arthur.” Uther greeted him, gracing his son with one of the cold, stiff smiles Arthur had long ago learned weren’t genuine. He sat down on the other sofa, unbuttoning his suit jacket as he did. “Are you here to tell me you’ve finally come to your senses?”

“Well,” Arthur returned the smile with an equally insincere one of his own, “I think that depends on how you define that particular term.”  
Uther let out an exaggerated sigh. “You know perfectly well what I mean, Arthur, don’t be impertinent.”

“In that case, no. I supposed I haven’t come to my senses, sir.”

Uther pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing again. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with you, Arthur. You have behaved childishly and irresponsibly, and I’ve tried to be patient, but at this point I’m forced to wonder what you expect from me.”

“I don’t expect anything from you, sir. In fact,” Arthur uncrossed his legs, sitting forward a little on the sofa, “my main reason for coming was to inform you that you shouldn’t expect to see me at court any time soon. I will agree to appear at important events, and I will cooperate with the PR office as needed, but that’s all. If you need to contact me, you can reach out to Leon.”

Uther’s face grew redder and redder as Arthur spoke. A muscle twitched in his jaw and a vein was popping in his temple. Arthur felt a surge of terror but forced himself to stay calm, breathing deeply and holding Uther’s gaze.

“You can’t really expect to get away with this,” Uther said through gritted teeth.

“I’m not ‘getting away’ with anything. And I’ve already had George get people to pack my things, they’re being moved out as we speak.”

“You can’t—” Uther’s voice rose, apoplectic with fury.

“Yes, I can. Not just can, I have.” Arthur matched his father’s volume but kept his voice even, standing up so he was looking down on him. “I’m leaving, Uther. Goodbye.”

Arthur left the room quickly, not waiting to listen his father’s blustering and furious response, and not looking back to see if he was being followed. He managed to hold himself together long enough to get to the car. As he unlocked the door, his hands started shaking and he gripped the steering wheel tightly as he drove down the street, away from the palace. Parking a few blocks away, Arthur let his head fall back against the headrest and finally gave into the wave of trembling, bone-penetrating fear that had been building for the whole conversation.

It took him a long time to pull himself together.

Once the last of his tears had stopped, Arthur reached for his phone, wiping his nose on a takeaway napkin he found in the glovebox as he did. He sent a brief message to Leon, telling him where he was. Arthur would have to wait to return to the hotel until he or one of the other security guards was able to catch up with him. In the meantime, Arthur took a deep breath and opened his text conversation with Merlin. If he couldn’t be brave now, when could he.

* * *

 _Fri, 23 Aug, 10:50 PM_  
 **Arthur:** Is there any chance you’d be free this afternoon? I’m not sure what time your train gets in, but I’m down in London for the weekend and it would be nice to see you. I’m staying at the Cavendish, but we can meet somewhere more convenient for you if you want. There’s some things I’d like to talk to you about. Well. Just the one thing honestly  
 **Arthur:** I know that the idea behind us talking again was to be friends, and I guarantee when I reached out I had no intentions other than that. Talking to you has always been better than talking to anyone else and I didn’t want to lose that just because we’d ended the romantic part of our relationship. I never expected anything else to happen, or to fall back into old patterns. But it seems like I forgot exactly what talking to you is like  
 **Arthur:** I love you. I’m not sure if “still” or “again” is the more fitting end to that sentence, because both feel incorrect— or more accurately, incomplete… but I love you. And you matter to me. You’ve always been incredibly important to me— romantically or no, and I don’t want you to feel as if you owe me anything back, but it would be nice if we could talk

* * *

“Gaius? Hello?”

“One minute!”

There was a series of scuffling and banging noises from deep in the flat, and the Gaius emerged, looking somewhat rumpled. “Merlin!”  
He opened his arms and Merlin let his bags slide to the ground so he could do the same, hugging Gaius back tightly. After a moment, Gaius pulled away, his hands on Merlin’s shoulders.

“It’s good to see you. Here, come in… How was your trip? No trouble?”

“No, it was fine. I spent most of it replying to emails.”

“And you found your way here alright?”

“Gauis, I was _fine_ ,” Merlin assured him. “I’ve been on the tube before.”

“Good. Uh, you know where the spare room is, I’ve cleared it all out for you, do you want any help with your bags?”

“That’s alright, I’ve got it.” Merlin shouldered his duffles again. “Oh, uh, have you got a charger I could borrow? My phone died just as I was getting on the train and I think my charger is buried in my bag somewhere.”

“Oh, of course, it’s in the kitchen, I’ll go get it.”

While Gaius disappeared into his kitchen, Merlin lugged his bags down the hall to the spare room and dropped them heavily on the bed, surveying his new space. It wasn’t unfamiliar to him, he normally stayed there whenever he and Hunith came to visit, though it was certainly the least cluttered Merlin had ever seen it.

“Here you are.” Gaius appeared in the doorway, holding out a beat up charging cable to Merlin. “Anything else? I’ve got some of those biscuits you like, and I was thinking of starting lunch in a bit but I can rustle something up now if you’re hungry.”

Merlin finished plugging in his phone and straightened up. “Yeah, that sounds good, actually.”

“Excellent, I’ll get it started then.”

Merlin followed Gaius to his kitchen, pulling himself up on one of the stools at the island and helping himself to the biscuits Gaius set in front of him.

“So how’ve you been?” he asked as Gaius took two cans of tuna from the cabinet and opened them. “How’s the pharmacy?”

“Good, good, same as ever.” Gaius opened the fridge and took out mayonnaise and a jar pickles. “But you’ve had an eventful few weeks! Hunith tells me you and Balinor are getting along quite well, tell me about that.”

Merlin swallowed. “Yeah. Um, I dunno… It was a bit strange, I guess, at first, but yeah. After a little bit we started to get on. I think we just had to figure out how to talk to each other.”

“Hmm.” Gaius finished mixing the tuna and mayonnaise together and started cutting up a few of the pickles. “Well, don’t tell your mother this, but I always thought she’d have done well to try and reach out to him sooner. She never would have, of course, she’s far too proud, but I think it’s good for you and Balinor to know each other, you’re a lot like him in many ways.”  
Merlin shrugged. “I guess. I mean, I’m glad to know him now, obviously, but I don’t think I suffered just because he wasn’t around. I had Mum. And you.”

Gaius looked at Merlin over his shoulder, smiling. “That’s very sweet of you, Merlin, thank you.”

“It’s true!”

“But,” Gaius continued, sliding the pickles off the cutting board and into the bowl, “I’m still glad you finally got to meet Balinor. He’s a good man.”

“Yeah. I’m glad, too.”

“And now,” Gaius put four slices of bread in the toaster and turned around to face Merlin, “you’re studying for a Master's! I’m sure you’ve heard this several times over, but I couldn’t be more proud of you.”

“Thanks,” Merlin smiled self consciously.

Gaius turned away from him again, putting the mayonnaise and pickles back into the fridge and reemerging with some lettuce. “Excited?”

“Erm.” Merlin laughed. “More nervous? I mean, I’m excited too, but it sort of goes back and forth between which one is more prevalent…”

“Well, I have complete faith in you. I’m sure you’ll be nothing short of spectacular.”

After the finished lunch, Merlin went back to his room to start unpacking. He stared at the two bulging bags on his bed for a minute before sighing and reaching for his phone. When he turned it on, he saw three text notifications from Arthur, all sent when Merlin had been on the train to London. He opened them, dropping onto the small space left on the bed. He read the messages and froze. He read them again. He stared at them, slowly feeling the words sink into his brain.

The next second, he was on his feet. He had to go. He patted his pockets, making sure he had his wallet, his key to Gaius’s flat. It had started raining since he’d arrived, and Merlin tore open the zipper on one of his bags, grabbing the first coat he came across, too frantic to mind which it was. It was a bit big on him, and maybe heavier than he needed but never mind that now. Pulling it on as quickly as possible, he made a beeline for the front door, calling out a goodbye to Gaius just before he let it bang shut behind him.

* * *

To: apendragon@gmail.com  
From: merlin.emrys@gmail.com  
Subject: please don’t use the word ‘deluged’ in a sentence about your nose ever again  
 _Sent 23 August, 2019_

arthur,

i don’t know if i should be telling you this or how you’ll feel about reading it, but someone once told me i shouldn’t shut everything up and i’m trying to take that to heart. so here’s the thing.

i’ve really liked being your friend again, these past couple months. you were one of the best parts of my life for years and i’m so glad you reached out back in april. that you gave us a shot at a second chance.

but in all honesty, I’d rather we had a different kind of second chance.

i’m not sure when exactly it started but somewhere between the emails and the phone calls and the annoyingly hot gardening selfies i’ve fallen a little bit in love with you again. more than a little if i’m being totally frank. i love you, and i’m scared and i don’t know if i’m throwing away my only shot at knowing you when we were lucky enough to make it work again after we almost fucked it all up forever. but i owe it to you to tell you, and i was really hoping i could ask you to give me another shot. give us another shot.

if you don’t, and by any chance you still want to be friends, i can make that work, i can tell the dumb, hung up on arthur pendragon part of my brain to fuck off and be more than happy knowing you in a 100% non-romantic context.

… but it would be nice if i didn’t have to.

if you’d want that.

love, (oh god i’m really saying that…)  
merlin

* * *

Arthur was trying very hard not to check his phone. It had been easy enough for the rest of the morning after leaving the palace, after a quick stop at the hotel he had to hurry off to a meeting where he’d put his phone on silent out of courtesy (and also to try to stop himself thinking about it). But now he was back in his hotel room, killing time until his second (and final) meeting of the day and trying desperately to tell himself that Merlin probably just hadn’t seen his text yet. It had only been an hour and 47 minutes, after all, not that he was counting, that was nothing. There were _plenty_ of reasons Merlin wouldn’t be looking at his phone. Arthur just had to be patient.

Sighing, he collapsed into the desk chair, rubbing the heels of his palms into his eyes. After a minute, Arthur pulled the chair into the desk, and opened his laptop. He didn’t have anything to do, really, aside from kill time. After a few minutes of scrolling, he navigated over to his email. His heart gave an awful lurch when he saw the unread message from Merlin, and immediately he reached over to check his phone. Still nothing. He checked the timestamp on the email. It had been sent within a few minutes of when he’d texted Merlin.

Frowning, Arthur opened it, his heart still pounding in his chest.

As he read, Arthur felt like his vision was tunnelling. The screen of his laptop seemed to pull in closer as everything else blurred out and melted away. The bed and the room felt like they were tilting sideways but in alternate directions as Arthur stared at the words in front of him, dumbstruck. After an utterly indefinable amount of time— Arthur would have been equally willing to believe it had been a minute as he would twenty years— he pushed backward in the chair, grabbing his phone and standing up as he dialled Merlin’s number.

He waited, holding his breath as he listened to the rings.

“Hi, uh, this is Merlin… Um. I can’t come to the phone, I guess, so, er… Leave a message after the beep. Yeah.”

Arthur released his breath on a heavy sigh. “Goddammit Merlin.”

He pulled up their text conversation.

_Hey so I got your email._

He waited for a moment, then when nothing happened, he scrolled back up through their previous conversations, not really reading any of it. He scrolled back down, staring at the stack of blue messages on the right of his screen and willing Merlin to answer.

“You know you really need to get better security guards.”

Arthur jumped, spinning around.

“All it took was walking up to Bedivere outside, and next thing I know I’m being shown up to your room. He didn’t even check me for weapons. Honestly, if this is the kind of people trust wth guarding your life I fear for your future.”

Merlin.

Merlin was standing just inside the door to Arthur’s hotel room. Arthur just stared, not saying anything. Merlin stared back, sticking his hands in his pockets and looking nervous. His hair was damp and drops of rain had collected on the shoulders of the coat he was wearing. A coat that—

“Is that my jacket?”

“What?” Merlin glanced down at himself, pulling his hands out of his pockets to tug at the hem of the dark blue peacoat the had definitely belonged to Arthur. “Oh. Yeah? I guess. I just found it in my closet when I was packing. I forgot it was yours, actually, sorry. I supposed you must’ve left it there.”

Arthur stared at him. It didn’t totally feel real.

Merlin coughed. “I, um. I got your text. My phone died on the train, I didn’t see it until I reached Gaius’s. I was gonna reply on my way over, but I realized halfway here that I forgot my phone, so…” he trailed off, looking at Arthur expectantly. “Er, I wrote an email? You might not have gotten it, but—”

“I got it.”

“Oh. Good.”

They were still standing across the room from each other. Merlin shifted his weight where he stood, but seemed too uncertain to move forward. With what felt like herculean effort, Arthur lifted his feet from the carpet, taking a few, slow steps forward into the gap between them.

“So,” he said.

“So?” Merlin asked, a smile tugging the corner of his mouth.

“I’m not trying to dismiss the fact that we should absolutely talk,” Arthur continued, “because we should, but… Your email sort of covers a lot of what I’d had in mind when I suggested a conversation.”

“Yeah,” Merlin said on a relieved exhale. His smile broadened. “I’d say that your texts sort of get past anything I might say.”

They were back to standing awkwardly, looking at each other. Merlin took jerky, half-step forward, stopping himself as he did.

“Oh for the—” Arthur looked up at the ceiling in frustration. “Can I please just kiss you now?”

“Oh my god, yes.”

Arthur started across the room and Merlin surged forward to meet him. They crashed into each other and it was messy and clumsy and desperate, until it wasn’t. Until they managed to fit together as the memory of a million previous kisses washed through them. Merlin was familiar in a way that made kissing him easy, made _being_ kissed by him feel like collapsing the past and the present into a single, infinite moment for nobody but them and maybe that was giving it all too much credit but, fuck, that’s how it _felt_.

They broke apart at a small, polite cough. Arthur pulled back from Merlin to see Leon poking his head and shoulders through the room’s half-open door.

“I, ah, was coming to inform you that your next appointment is in twenty minutes… But, clearly you’ll be indisposed for the rest of the day. I’ll have it rescheduled.”

“Yes.” Arthur’s face felt hot and he was sure it was bright red. Merlin, in Arthur’s peripheral vision, looked dazed. His cheeks were flushed and his lips stood out more than usual against his pale skin. “Thank you, Leon.”

Leon gave him a small nod, disappearing back into the hallway. Arthur and Merlin both watched the door for a moment, then Merlin burst out laughing.

Arthur looked at him in surprise. “Are you alright?”

“I’m— ” he held up a hand, still laughing. “One sec.”

Arthur watched Merlin, a little alarmed, as he shook with silent laughter. Finally, Merlin took a deep breath, exhaling on a sigh and letting his head fall onto Arthur’s shoulder.

“Sorry. I just… I kind of can’t believe this is happening.”

“Yeah,” a broad smile spread across Arthur’s face as he looked down at Merlin. “It’s kind of incredible.”

“Yeah.” Merlin pressed his face a little more firmly into Arthur’s shoulder and then straightened up, exhaling sharply. “We should still talk though. I’m not doing it if we’re just going to ignore all the things that made us break up in the first place.”

“Right.” Arthur nodded. Merlin’s warmth next to him was distracting. He looked out the window. It had stopped raining, and despite a few lingering patches of cloud it didn’t look likely to start again. “How about a walk? Being in a hotel room for this seems a little strange. And possibly presumptuous.”

“That sounds great.” Merlin reached out and took Arthur’s hand, squeezing it lightly. “Before we leave though, can I borrow your phone? I just want to ring Gaius so he knows I might be out for a while.”

“Yeah, of course,” Arthur handed it to him. As Merlin dialled the number he asked, “A while, huh?”

Merlin glanced up. “Well, if we’re talking. I just thought it might take sometime. If you don’t…”

“No,” Arthur said quickly. “No, that’s fine.” He smiled at Merlin. “I’ve got all the time in the world.”

**Author's Note:**

> So this fic has been in the works for a long time. It started life as something very different in the winter of 2018, I made it a couple thousand words in, then all but abandoned it until this past summer when I did a huge overhaul of my planning notes and reworked it into what you just finished reading. This is also the longest thing I’ve ever written, fanfic or no, and I am immensely proud to have gotten it done. I know that these notes are self indulgent and I doubt people much care about them, but seriously, thank you so much for reading this story. I’m @quondam-et-futurus on tumblr if you wanna say hi.


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